


The Busker

by writingonpostcards



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Human, Getting Together, M/M, Musician Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:57:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3297689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He’s walking out the door when Erica calls out. “There’s a new busker today. I think you’ll like him.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Stiles busks. Derek works nearby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Busker

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve taken some liberties with character timelines but nothing totally shocking. Age gap between Cora and Derek is bigger and between Derek and Stiles is smaller. Claudia Stilinski’s death occurs later. Most of the places mentioned are fictional.
> 
>  
> 
> [Mixtape Here](http://8tracks.com/laughing_attack/the-busker)

“Hey, Der?”

“Yeah, what?”

“Is it my turn to go to the book fair this weekend or yours?”

“Seriously Laura? It’s on the calendar.”

“Which is in the office and I am not. So. Whose turn?”

“It’s yours.”

“Cool. Thought so.”

“ _Then why even ask?_ ” Derek grumbles to the piles of books he is pricing.

He and his older sister Laura own a second-hand book shop which is one of a dozen stores in the historical part of Beacon Hills. The Historical Village, through some very meticulous town planning, sits at the entrance to Beacon Hills and is about as touristy as the town gets. There’s a parking lot for visitors and a pedestrian only road lined on both sides by shops which ends in a paved courtyard. Derek likes to sit on one of the benches in the courtyard during his lunch breaks so he can look across the grassy area to the beginnings of the preserve and listen to the local musicians who busk in the courtyard.

He always brings a book along to read, getting through one to three a week. Derek’s taste in literature was what he liked to called varied and what Laura referred to as _a reflection of his emotional schizophrenia_ , which someone with a degree in psychology shouldn’t really have been saying. But their reading preferences were complimentary in terms of stacking the shelves with enough variety.

The first and third weekend of every month Laura would go to a book fair and bring back sci-fi and fantasy books, her preferred genres. She was also in charge of children’s books, philosophy and well-being books, and young adult stuff. Then every other weekend Derek would bring back pretty much everything else – non-fiction, comics, cookbooks, romance novels, books that had won prizes, volumes of poetry, joke books, trivia books, historical fiction – anything that sounded interesting to him or he thought would sell.

The book store was never very busy - bar holiday seasons - not being as popular with the tourists as the lolly shop down the street or antique store next door, but it had enough traffic for Derek and Laura to keep it up without having to skimp on decking the place out. Whether that was with the books they bought at fairs or random furniture bought from the antique place which they’d placed around the store so people could read a little before they bought something.

Of course they also relied a lot on donations of books from residents or sometimes even the Beacon Hills library when they wanted to update their collection. The antique store next door also voluntarily passed on any books they received. Well, Derek says voluntarily but he has always had a sneaking suspicion that Laura has a secret relationship with the guy in charge of deliveries over there. Daniel or David or Danny or something. He’s never asked though.

After finishing pricing the books in front of him, Derek’s takes his lunch break. He picks up a book at random and heads to the cafe across the way to grab something to eat. The cafe is pretty standard; counter top running along the left hand side and across the back with displays of foods and drinks. Wooden tables and chairs, only about a third of which are occupied today, take up the rest of the floor space and some of the pathway outside the front of the cafe. But it’s reasonably priced and directly across from the book store so it’s convenient.

“Derek!!” A blond woman comes barrelling around the counter and throws her arms around Derek. “Long time no see. You’re looking good. Shame you’re still rockin’ the leather though. Was kinda hoping you’d have grown out of it by the time I got back.”

“And hello to you too Erica.” Derek grins. Erica has worked at the cafe-slash-bakery longer than he and Laura have run the bookshop. They’d hit it off right away – some combination of Derek needing a daily fix of coffee and Erica being almost as well read as him. And not understanding the definition of personal space.

“How was the honeymoon?”

“Wonderful.” Erica beams at him. “So, so amazing. And that was just the wedding night.” She winks at him and he pokes her in the side. “Haha, ok. Italy was perfect. You should come over to the house sometime and we can do a photo night and I’ll tell you all about it. Boyd says hi by the way and he wants to know whether you’ve found any more of that cook book series he’s collecting.”

“Tell Boyd hi back and I managed to find two more books for him. He can come pick them up whenever.”

“Thanks, Big D. I might just swing by after my shift and get it if that’s cool. You gonna be there late today?”

“Yeah, Laura and I got another shelf so we’re going to be there for a couple hours after closing time filling it up. And don’t call me Big D.”

“Not a chance.” She smirks at him. “Usual lunch order then?”

Derek nods and Erica heads back behind the counter to make him a coffee and heat up a wrap for him. Derek fills her in on what she’s missed over the past two months – the art gallery starting kids crafts on Sundays, his suspicions about Laura and the antique guy, Cora planning to visit in a couple of weeks and other bits and pieces.

He’s walking out the door when Erica calls out. “There’s a new busker today. I think you’ll like him.”

Throwing a questioning look over his shoulder he goes to claim his favourite bench in the courtyard.

He hears the busker playing _Road To Nowhere,_ Derek’s favourite Talking Heads song, before he sees him. _Erica was right_ , he thinks to himself. Most of the other buskers play acoustic covers of top 40 songs interspersed with some of the more commercially successful classics. It’s all pleasant of course, Derek heard that the woman who runs the busking program is a bit tyrannical about screening the musicians, but Derek can tell this busker is going to be his favourite purely by virtue of musical choice.

Over the course of his lunch break Derek stops reading his book several times to listen to the busker play. Normally he lets the music fade into the background as he reads but every second song seems to be taken off Derek’s most-played on iTunes and the busker, who Derek can’t see from his bench, manages to make each of them completely his own in a way that has Derek smiling.

After enjoying himself for longer than he normally gives himself for lunch breaks, Derek walks back to the bookstore, pausing to put his rubbish in a bin, and then pausing for an entirely different reason. His move has brought the busker into his line of sight and wow. Derek doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so immediately appealing to him.

The busker is gorgeous. Beautiful. Just a few shades too delicate to be handsome, but not near enough the other end of the scale to be classified as pretty. He’s slender, with pale skin dotted with freckles and moles and dark brown hair mussed from the breeze. Derek can’t gage much apart from that as the boy is hunched over his guitar and watching his own fingers play across the frets as he segues between one song and another.

Derek realises he’s been standing by a rubbish bin for too long and he hurriedly turns and heads back to the shop, hoping no-one noticed his strange behaviour.

Back at the store he goes straight back to the office, bypassing Laura and a customer she’s helping, and drops himself into the chair behind the desk. He lets out a groan and rubs his hands over his face.

He’s beginning to think that maybe Erica’s _'I think you’ll like him'_ wasn’t an innocent as he had first thought.

**

This suspicion is proved true the following week.

“Ok Derek. I’ve given you a week. But now it’s time. Tell me what I really wanna know,” Erica singsongs very close to his face before returning to her favourite chair in the back corner of the bookstore, next to the lounge Derek is occupying.

“And what would that be Erica?” He knows what it is. He’d avoided it that first day at the cafe and he cursed himself that he agreed to let Erica come over tonight. Of course that was before he’d known that Laura had taken some extra time at the high school. But one more day would be good. And then another one. And then another one and another one so he’d never have to talk about it.

“Your looourve life Derek. Come on. Lay it on me. Now that I’m stuck married to Boyd for the rest of my life I’m going to have to live vicariously through your romances.”

“You are not stuck with Boyd, you chose him. And can’t I please have a respite from this topic of conversation?” He covers his face with his hands.

“Derek, this is the first time I’ve asked you since I got back. We haven’t talked about it in _months_!” Erica tries to prise his hands off his face and Derek is suddenly very, very grateful for his workout regime.

“And it’s been heaven for me.” She gives up and shoves him.

“Please Derek?”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Erica raises her eyebrows at that, demonstrating her disbelief loud and clear.

“Two months have gone by, actually more than that now, and you are seriously telling me nothing has happened at all? No girlfriend? Boyfriend? Meaningless hook-up? Failed dates? A hopeless crush?” Derek immediately thinks of the busker and his hand twitches. He tries to cover it by moving it to scratch his forearm but Erica’s seen it.

“Ah-ha!! I knew it! Hopeless crush right?” Derek grumbles. “Oh, poor Derek.”

Thankfully Boyd chooses that moment to arrive, bringing a bottle of red wine and a pack of cards.

Derek immediately stands up to hug him, letting him sit on the couch next to Erica while he moves to a chair on Boyd’s other side. Distance is always a good idea. And Boyd is wonderful at distracting Erica.

Their poker night goes well. Derek walks away with a profit which is rare for him seeing as Boyd is a poker faced whiz at cards. He thinks he’s escaped Erica and her questioning for the evening when the pair get up to leave.

“Just so you know,” Erica interrupts his daydreaming about getting home to bed, “I’ve not forgotten about your little crush. I’m coming tomorrow to interrogate you.”

“I’m at the book fair.” Derek says very quickly.

“All day?” He nods, even though it’s not true. Erica narrows her eyes in a way that lets him know she doesn’t believe him but she lets it go. He wants as much time as he can get before he has to tell Erica about his crazy crush on a guy he barely even knows.

“Fine. Sunday then.” Her smile is totally at odds with her nefarious intentions and Derek scowls at her. “I gave you fair warning so no escaping this time. Bye bye!” and she runs off to catch up with Boyd who is already halfway down the lane.

* *

True to her word, Erica comes in on Sunday. Derek had spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about this conversation yesterday at the book fair – so much so that he’d accidently bought a series of craft books on quilting which he knows is going to be a pain to sell - and he still has no clue what he’s going to tell her. Because Erica is surprisingly adept at being able to figure out when Derek is lying, so he can’t just make something up. And it’s not like he even wants to lie to her really, she’s one of his best friends and really very nice under all the snark.

It’s just... is it strange that he really likes a guy he knows basically nothing about? He doesn’t even know his name. Derek isn’t necessarily predisposed towards the traditional view of relationships, he’s had a few one-night stands and relationships that don’t reach the one month marker, but not knowing The Busker’s name is kind irking Derek.

Derek upgraded The Busker to capital letters, having watched him perform another 3 times since that first encounter, and every time liking him just that little bit more. His lunch time reading rate has slowed down so much that even Laura commented on it because he’s so entranced watching pale, slender fingers pluck at strings that he hardly ever reads a sentence when The Busker is there. Derek thinks he may have had an easier time managing his crush if the music he played wasn’t so exactly Derek’s that it just adds more appeal every time his melodious voice sings a Michael Stipe or a Chris Isaak or a Michael Hutchence or even a Debbie Harry (his rendition of _Maria_ had Derek half mouthing the words along with him).

Actually, Derek thinks now, maybe not knowing The Busker’s name is a good thing. Erica would probably Facebook stalk him if given the chance.

There is a ray of hope for this conversation after all.

The bell rings then and Derek roughly shoves the book he was holding onto a shelf, turning to see Erica entering the shop.

“Erica! Hey!” Laura, who was sitting at the counter, gets up and gives her a hug. “Sorry I wasn’t at poker the other night but I had to put in an extra day counselling at the high school. Who knew teenagers had so many problems, right?”

“Can’t fool me Laura, I know you love it.”

“You’ve got me there.”

Derek has been quietly edging his way toward the office in what he knows is a futile attempt to escape Erica once more. A man’s got to try.

“Hey Derek.” Caught. Dammit. “Why don’t you go for lunch now with Erica? It’s pretty slow here anyway, I can manage.”

“Thanks Laura.” Derek sighs. Erica grins scarily at him.

They grab some food from the cafe and head to the courtyard. The square is fairly crowded, filled with lots of families with young kids who spill out onto the grassy oval behind the square. And The Busker is there busy singing to a group of kids who are sitting in fascination at his feet.

They find a vacant bench and sit down. It just so happens to be facing The Busker which Derek would ordinarily enjoy but is today causing him great pain as he tries not to look at him and how his fingers are moving on the strings and how his shirt is a little on the tight side today.

“Oh hey, it’s that busker I told you about. He’s good isn’t he.” Erica tilts her head to survey the guy and Derek feels jealous on Boyd’s behalf. And maybe a little on his own, because, after all, maybe Derek isn’t The Busker’s type. Erica and Cora are always making fun of how off his supposed should-be-inherent gaydar is nonexistent.

“Yeah.” Derek scratches his forearm and avoids looking back at The Busker because he’ll probably blush or accidently look ‘mushy’ as Cora likes to call it.

“Oh. My. God.” Erica is looking back and forth between Derek and The Busker and her smile is slowly getting bigger and bigger. “It’s him! Isn’t it. Isn’t it?! Wow, when I said you’d like him I didn’t think you’d _like_ like him.”

“Shush Erica.” The Busker is in between songs, retuning his guitar, and Derek’s paranoid that he can hear them talking. Erica isn’t exactly one for subtlety or knowing the definition of quiet.

“I’m going to take that as confirmation that he’s the one you’re crushing on.” Erica turns to look at The Busker as he starts playing his next song. “He’s cute Derek. And he looks like a nice guy too. I have a mild psychic ability with that kind of thing.” Derek knows he’s nice from watching him interact with people, but he’s not going to tell that to Erica. Doesn’t want her to jibe him for stalking. Which he’s not. He’s just observing in a casual, happenstance way.

“I’m gonna go give him some money for the purpose of perving him up close.” Erica leaps up eagerly and avoids Derek as he tries to grab her and pull her back down.

“No. Erica!”

Derek slumps a little on the bench and covers his face with his hand. _Shit_. Now he really hopes his paranoia was unfounded and The Busker hadn’t heard anything they’d been talking about. He splits his fingers so he can look through them.

By the time she gets past the kids to him, he’s in between songs again and when Erica drops some money into his case she says something to him which causes The Busker to throw his head back in laughter before he can reply to her.

“Even better up close Derek,” is the first thing Erica says when she sits back down, “And his smile gives the sun a run for its money doesn’t it?”

Derek remains silent.

“You’re no fun Derek. Have you even gone up to give him money?” Derek frowns at her. “Taking that as a no. You should. I’m not going to make you do it now, maybe when there are less kids around. But you should. It’s a good place to start.”

“Start what?”

“Wooing him.” Erica winks.

* *

Another week passes and on Sunday Derek is in the office distracted with pricing the several boxes that Laura had returned with from the book fair yesterday. Halfway through box four he glances at his watch and startles because there’s only 10 minutes left of The Busker’s timeslot. Assuring himself that it isn’t pathetic to race off to the courtyard, he does just that.

The weather is nice and the art gallery is doing craft lessons for kids so there are more families than normal hovering around the shops. It means that all of the benches are occupied when Derek reaches the courtyard so with a sigh he sits on the grass with his legs stretched out in front of him and leans back on his hands, having forgotten to bring a book in his hurry.

His view of The Busker is a little obscured but he’s much closer than normal so he can hear every word of the conversation he has during his next song.

Derek watches through the legs of people gathered around The Busker as a little boy nervously takes a step towards him. The singing stops but the guitar music continues as he speaks to the kid.

“Hey there, what’s your name?” Unsurprisingly The Busker has a wonderful speaking voice. Like half-melted marshmallows in hot chocolate.

“Kent.”

“Kent! That’s an awesome name.” And somehow he does make it sound awesome, which surprises Derek as most people talk down to kids and it’s always pissed him off. Parents who come in to the book store and don’t let their children buy the books they’re interested in because _they’re too old for you_. But The Busker sounds genuinely enthusiastic.

“I’m Stiles. It’s nice to meet you.”

Stiles. The Busker finally has a name. Stiles. If Derek weren’t in public he’d say the name out loud just to see how it would roll off his tongue. It’s an unusual name, Nickname? European? Perhaps Polish or maybe Ukranian. Derek makes a mental note to look it up in a book of name origins he knows is at the shop (because no one will buy it) and then wonders if that’s a step too far in the stalker direction and decides against it.

“Do you play an instrument?” The Busker– no, _Stiles_ , continues.

Derek can’t see the kid’s response but gathers he has shaken his head because the next thing he hears is Stiles offering him to come and sit next to him and strum the guitar for him while he holds down the chords.

The crowd shifts slightly as children crowd closer to Stiles, hoping for a turn, and suddenly Derek is given an unhindered view straight to Stiles.

Derek sucks in a surprised breath.

He hasn’t seen The Busker in a week, too busy with new arrivals from the antique store and Laura picking up overtime at the high school, and he sees now that his mind had only given him a half-actualised vision of The Busker. Stiles.

Today his hair glows almost bronze in the sunlight, messy and thick and begging for fingers to be run through it. He smiles at the line of kids with warmth and kindness through lips that look pink and shiny still from metres away. He's wearing a green plaid shirt unbutton over a tight black tee and for some reason it makes the moles on his pale skin more apparent. Derek imagines constellations between them, imagines following them with his tongue and fingers.

Derek checks himself and sucks in a breath which is surprisingly shaky. He nervously glances around him for looks from disapproving parents. Surely someone noticed him slipping into fantasy in the middle of the grass on a Sunday? But everyone is much too enthralled by Stiles, who is still conducting his impromptu music lesson for a growing group of kids.

Derek still feels an edge of embarrassment though, so he heads back to the office, getting food from the deli as he passes, and loses himself in pricing Laura’s books until it is dark outside and his eyes are itching.

At home that night, lying in bed, he comes to the frightening conclusion that he really likes Stiles. Or more accurately, who he imagines Stiles might be. And that’s frightening thing number two, that he really doesn’t know Stiles.

But he thinks it’s probably time he finds out.

**

“You’re wrong about Laura and the antique guy.” Erica offers by way of greeting when Derek walks into the cafe a few days later.

“Hello to you too Erica.” Derek smiles and pokes her side as she sticks her tongue out.

“His name’s Danny by the way. And there’s nothing going on there because he’s going out with some guy called Ethan.”

“Is he the one who works at the lolly shop? The new guy?”

“No, no. That’s Isaac. He sat at your table at our wedding. How could you forget that?”

Derek thinks back to the reception. There had been a curly haired boy hunched across from him at the table who kept glancing over his shoulder. It was hard to align that person with the vibrant, scarf-wearing, sarcastic guy who worked at the lolly shop.

“He’s changed.”

“Yeah” Erica smiles warmly. “He finally moved out of home a couple months ago and he’s doing really well. He crashed at ours for a bit while he looked for a place.” Derek’s trying to assimilate what he thought were two different guys into Isaac when he’s interrupted by Erica. “Hang on, you’re not interested in him are you? I thought you had a thing for Guitar Guy.”

“Stiles.” Derek corrects automatically, registering belatedly that it was probably a bad idea to give Erica that information.

She’s smirking. Definitely a bad idea.

“Stiles, huh? Got a last name?”

“I don’t know.” Derek sighs and it comes out wistful.

* *

Stiles has his sign up declaring he’s _'just here to entertain'_. It’s the fifth time Derek has seen it and every time he does he’s just reaffirmed in his belief that Stiles is a good person.

The weather has been getting cooler in the past week and so Derek, acting on a romantic whim he knows Laura would tease him about and inspired by the sign, backtracks to the cafe to pick up some coffee for Stiles. Thankfully Erica isn’t working today or he’s sure she’d give him hell about his second coffee purchase.

He has no idea what kind of coffee Stiles drinks but has definitely seen him with a takeaway cup from here before. He sticks with a simple coffee with cream and hopes for the best.

It’s worth it regardless when he places the coffee at Stiles’ feet because he gets one of Stiles’ ridiculous full faced smiles directed right at him. Which makes Derek, who really hopes he automatically smiled back, a little dazed and he almost walks right past his favourite bench.

**

When Derek next sees Stiles he’s playing an instrumental piece and hunched over his guitar to concentrate on his fingers as they move along the fret. His hair is longer than Derek thought it was and it flops just slightly off his forehead and sways as Stiles moves his head back and forth, keeping pulse.

Derek sits down at his bench and instead of opening his book straight away, he lets himself watch Stiles. His fingers are working languidly over the strings and his chest rises and falls hypnotically.

Although the song is unfamiliar, Derek can almost feel the longing in it.

All of a sudden the music crescendos to its finish and Stiles throws his head back. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are flushed and his hair isn’t sitting quite right and Derek feels like his throat has closed up. Stiles’ has never looked this... _open_ before, and Derek wants to walk across the courtyard and lick under his jaw and press his face into that long neck and just breathe.

Scared at the intensity of his own thoughts he hastily opens his book. It takes him almost a whole minute to realise the writing is upside-down, by which time Stiles is singing some top 40 pop song which Derek tries to compel his mind to ignore.

**

On Friday a girl of about 7 years is holding on tightly to her mother’s hand and bobbing minutely to Stiles’ music.

Stiles, who Derek has come to realise is startlingly perceptive, notices and engages the girl in pleasant chatter and compliments her outfit, a clashing ensemble of striped knee high socks over the top of jeans and a dress with a pattern of ducks on it which she proudly claimed she chose herself. Derek half-smiles and feels a pull in his abdomen and adds ' _good with kids_ ' to his list of things he finds attractive alongside ' _plays guitar_ ', ' _moles_ ', and _'ridiculously large smile_ '.

Derek really shouldn’t be, but he’s surprised when at the girls request Stiles starts singing Katy Perry’s _Roar_ as if he’s performed the song his whole life. He even gets up half way through the song to dance enthusiastically with the little girl who has let go of her mother and is bouncing around happily to the music.

Derek chuckles to himself and he almost swears that Stiles looks right at him.

**

The next time he finds the cafe Erica-less, Derek orders an extra large coffee for Stiles because it’s even colder. He searches his coat pocket for a pen to write his details on the cup before realising that’s terribly cliché, over-thinks the whole thing and chickens out, heading straight back to the bookstore. He gives Laura the second coffee even though it’s not her regular order and retreats to the office, closing the door and softly but repeatedly banging his head against it.

* *

The next week a stunning red-head in a floral dress and knee high leather boots comes in to the courtyard half way through Stiles’ Friday session. Stiles immediately transitions from whatever Coldplay song he was covering this week to Bruno Mars’ _Treasure_ and all of Derek’s half-thought out fantasies that he’d ever have the courage to approach Stiles immediately disappear.

Stiles has a girlfriend.

Derek’s a masochist and stays longer than normal so he can see how Stiles interacts with the girl when he’s done. Looping his guitar around his back he practically bounces up to wrap the girl in a hug and pepper her cheeks with kisses. The girl throws her head back and laughs, the exact same action that Stiles always uses, and it confirms for Derek that they’re a couple.

Derek’s stomach is twisting horribly and he fears his mouth has been sitting open for minutes. Weeks spent watching, and hoping, and slowly folding what he thought was a tangible possibility of knowing Stiles into his life and it’s all dashed in a matter of moments.

It is horrible. Derek finds himself lumped in with the protagonists of nearly every romance novel he’s ever read, scarily able to feel word for word their experiences.

Stiles and the red-head stay close as he packs up his guitar and they walk up the street talking easily and sharing casual touches. Derek hasn’t had that familiarity with anyone in a long time and his body stings with this lost opportunity.

He sighs and picks up his book, looking down at the ground as he slowly walks back to the shop.

At least he hadn’t written his number on the coffee the other day.

**

Saturday Derek spends most of his day at a book fair three towns over, lamenting the loss of something he never had. He finds it hurts more than expected because he’d been naive enough to actually imagine it possible – him and Stiles. He had let it get to a point where he saw it as a given that Stiles was going to be part of his life. But he waited too long.

Stiles has a beautiful girlfriend and Derek has no-one. Maybe if Derek had approached Stiles earlier though, Stiles and he could have maybe been friends instead. Derek shakes his head and tries for a fourth time to read the blurb of the book he’s holding. There is no point in working himself up over yet another _‘what if’_ scenario.

Laura calls a few times during the day – Derek isn’t normally gone this long – but he lets them go to voice mail as he looks half-heartedly through boxes of dusty books.

Laura has already closed up the store and left by the time Derek drives back to The Historical Village to unload his purchases. He leaves them for something to do tomorrow. Laura hates pricing, so he hopes that she won’t bother him in the office while he wallows some more tomorrow.

**

The following day on his way to the courtyard for his lunch break Derek is so lost in his head that he almost bumps into one of the kids craft tables outside the art gallery. He’s only jolted into awareness by the particularly loud squeal of a young boy who had his crayons stolen by the girl across the table.

As he stands there, Stiles’ red-haired girlfriend rushes over to the table wearing a smock. She helps settle the dispute with measured reasoning and then proceeds to walk around the several cluttered tables. She helps a little boy mix a pink colour from red and white paints and then answers a few questions from a group of girls trying to scrapbook with magazines.

Derek sighs. Of course Stiles’ girlfriend is just as nice as he is.

As Derek begins to walk off, the red-head saunters over to where a brooding model-type is leaning against the wall of the gallery. They exchange a couple of words and then he leans down to kiss her.

And just like that there are butterflies in Derek’s stomach. Red-head lady is clearly with the brooding model (a little too clearly for middle of the day on Sunday in front of a bunch of kids). Derek smiles and turns on his heels, heading back to the book store.

Laura gives him a strange look when he walks in just minutes after leaving but she doesn’t say anything.

Derek goes into the office and closes the door. He leans back against it and lets himself smile giddily.

Stiles isn’t going out with her. All his worrying yesterday and for what? Derek laughs under his breath, feeling wonderful again. Like the first time he saw Stiles, but even better.

“Forgot my book.” He says to Laura as he breezes past her again and out the door.

He walks with an almost-spring in his step that his mother would knowingly wink at him for and crosses his fingers that Erica isn’t working today because he’s going to do it. He’s feeling confident about this again, finally. He’s still smiling and his lungs are bursting with glorious air and he’s going to write his number on a coffee for Stiles.

He lets out a breath when he sees no sign of blonde hair anywhere in the cafe and smiles perhaps a little too much at the boy who takes his order. He grabs the coffee quickly and makes his way down the path. Standing just short of the courtyard, close enough to hear Stiles but far enough not to be able to see him, Derek licks his lips nervously. He takes a pen out of his pocket and rests it against the cardboard cup. Does he start with a greeting? _Hi Stiles, I’m Derek_. No. That sounds horrible.

He puts the pen back and walks a little closer to the courtyard.

He huffs, berating himself for over thinking this again. What happened to his confidence from a minute ago? He pictures the red-head with her boyfriend again and then steps slightly to the side so he can see Stiles sitting on the stone wall playing his music. His confidence reignites with Stiles in his line of sight and Derek takes the pen out swiftly and writes his number neatly on the cup, signing it off with a simple Derek. He debates writing his last name on the cup but his mother’s stranger danger warnings ring in his ears and he decides against it. Just in case. Although Derek can’t entertain the idea that Stiles is anything close to sinister. He’s seen the guy with children and it just doesn’t fit. But after all, Stiles is still a stranger to Derek. He just sincerely hopes that this coffee cup can change that.

Thinking about Stiles has put butterflies in his stomach that feel more like angry squirrels and when Derek gets to the courtyard, instead of the smooth situation he had imagined (and dreamt above several times since the first coffee he gave Stiles two weeks ago) where he smiles and slowly places the coffee near his case with his number and name facing Stiles, and Stiles smiles back softly and his eyes sparkle and dance, and after his song he places his guitar to the side, picks up the coffee and stalks over to Derek, who stayed standing close, so that they’re mere inches away from each other, says, ' _Thanks for the coffee... Derek'_ , and looks up at him from under his eyelashes while he takes a sip and moves the cup away so Derek can see his throat working to swallow the liquid, and-

Real life does not reflect this vision. Instead, Derek avoids looking at Stiles (well, as much as he can), and hastily drops the coffee by his case without paying attention to angling the cup, then rushes to his usual bench and promptly opens his book and attempts to hide his whole body behind it.

Derek's heart is racing and he can feel his fingers sliding against the glossy cover of the book, slightly sweaty. When he realises his muscles are overly tensed he makes an effort to breathe deeply and loosen them, trying to distract himself with his book.

He can’t help but feel that Stiles’ next song choice is partially influenced by him.

* *

The next day Derek’s little sister Cora comes up to visit him and Laura during the school break. She’s a great distraction from the coffee cup fiasco. Yes, Derek has labelled it a fiasco and hasn’t told anyone about it. He left before Stiles finished playing and checking his phone every 10 minutes throughout the night had not magically made Stiles contact him.

Cora arrives Monday evening and Derek, Laura and she have dinner at Laura’s house, where Cora will be staying during the week. It’s nice catching up and he stays later than intended seeing as he’s on opening duty for Tuesday.

Derek’s a morning person though so when his alarm wakes him after only 5 hours of sleep he doesn’t hesitate before getting out of bed and heading to the shower. Tuesday morning is slow and he spends the time going over sales from the previous week and doing a risk analysis of expanding the shop into the empty lot next door, burying himself in numbers to distract from Stiles’ silence.

Laura drops Cora in midmorning and the three spend some time picking up random books and reading the opening passages to the others who try and guess which book it is before Laura leaves for a teachers meeting at the high school.

Cora sits on a beanbag and reads while Derek looks after a few customers that come in. After the last one leaves he decides it’s time for food.

“Let’s go outside and have lunch. I’ll get you something from the deli.” Cora closes her book without marking the page and jumps up.

“Food sounds good to me. You’re paying right?”

“Of course Cora.” She grins and kisses him on the cheek as she rushes past and out the door.

Derek flips to store’s sign to closed and heads up the street to the deli where Cora is already engrossed in examining the food displays.

10 minutes later they’re sitting in the courtyard eating paninis stuffed full of feta, pastrami and salad. There are no buskers on Tuesday so Derek and Cora just listen to the bubble of the water fountain and the scuffling sounds of people going in and out of shops. The two sit in silence and it’s not uncomfortable. He and Cora are as close as him and Laura but in a different way. He used to go hiking around the Beacon Hills reserve with Cora when they were teenagers and they’d spend as much time quietly listening to nature as they did talking.

Derek would have enjoyed the silence even more had he known what Cora wanted to talk about.

“So who is it?”

“Who’s who?

“The person you’re crushing on.” Not even two days into her visit and Derek remembers how infuriating younger sisters can be.

“I’m not _crushing_ on anyone.”

“Really?” She raises an eyebrow at Derek.

“Really. Cora. I’m not.” Her eyebrow is still up though so Derek knows she doesn’t believe him.

“Laura says you’ve been buying more romances than normal.” So it’s both his sisters ganging up on him.

“I haven’t.” Derek frowns and thinks back to the weekend when he went to the book fair. He didn’t think he had done anything different than normal. Some romances, sure, because Laura wouldn’t touch them; language books, a few historical fiction books, an anthology of 17th century poems and a whole bunch of non-fiction books. He shakes his head at Cora.

“So it isn’t true that last weekend you bought 7 romance novels, a bunch of sappy, lovey-dovey poetry and a French language book called _Learn the Language of Love?_ ”

Derek scratched the inside of his left forearm in lieu of answering.

“Hmmm. Noted.” Cora takes a massive, self-satisfactory bite out of her panini.

Derek sighs and avoids making eye-contact with Cora. Thank god Stiles wasn’t playing today or else he probably would’ve glanced at him at the wrong moment and given himself away. Then Cora would be in possession of too much knowledge for his comfort.

“Come on. Let’s get back to the shop.”

“Admitting defeat so soon Derek?” Cora teases him effortlessly with her 17 years experience but follows him back up the lane to the bookshop.

**

The rest of the week thankfully passes with minimal digging into his love life. After getting over the fact that his crush on Stiles is apparently so obvious that Cora picked up on it within a single day (with the help of Laura, _thank you meddlesome older sister_ ) Derek has a lot of fun with his sisters. Laura and he close the store early every day and in the evenings the three of them do things together. They see the latest superhero film, have a games night, make dinners together, attempt to make dessert together (luckily Laura always has tubs of ice-cream for backup) and go stargazing in the preserve.

Derek relaxes into family bonding and it’s distracting enough that he only thinks about Stiles in the moments he has by himself, which are often at night, and often lead to dreams ranging anywhere from simple memories of watching Stiles perform in the courtyard to more elaborate fantasies where the two perform something of a different nature. Derek can’t decide which he likes best and debating that is almost enough to keep at bay the fact that he gave Stiles his number on Sunday and he hasn’t heard anything from him.

On Thursday, Derek and Cora head to the lolly shop so she can stock up on sweets before she goes home on Sunday. Their parents are pretty heath focused but him and his sisters were all cursed with a sweet tooth. He used to hide blocks of chocolate in a shoebox in his closet and he knows Laura had one of those hollowed out books where she stashed sour lollies. If he remembers right it was actually a book of health food recipes. Laura always did have a wicked sense of humour.

Isaac is working today and Derek tries hard to reconcile him with the nervous boy from Erica and Boyd’s wedding reception. Now that he knows, he can recognise the same curly brown hair and the prominent cheekbones, but that’s about it. He seems almost 2 inches taller and the smiling really helps.

To Derek’s absolute horror he swears Isaac is being even more sarcastic than usual as he lets Cora taste test almost everything in the store (which Derek _knows_ is against store policy from his own disappointing personal experience). He hurries Cora out of the shop after that and back to the book store where they spend the rest of the afternoon quizzing each other from a movie trivia book and helping out the few customers who come in. It’s nice spending time with Cora. They don’t see each other that often now that he’s running the book store full time and she’s busy completing her final year at Beacon Hills High School.

On Saturday, Laura takes Cora with her to the book fair and in the evening they all have another dinner together before Cora heads back home.

Laura drives her back on the Sunday afternoon. Derek gets a text that night letting him know she’s decided to stay for the night and catch up with their parents and would he mind opening up shop tomorrow. It was his turn anyway and he sends an ' _of course, tell them hi from me'_ before heading home.

As he drives home from the store Derek turns the radio on and thinks about nothing much until _Imitation of Life_ by REM comes on. Stiles had played it the other day. The day that Derek had given him the coffee with his name and number on it.

It’s been a week and nothing. Nothing has come of it. Despite the distraction of Cora, Derek had spent the first day after giving Stiles his number in a state of nervous anticipation and the second in a state or even more nervous anticipation. On the third day he worried that he’d written his number on wrong – made the one look like a seven or something. On the fourth day he grew hopeful that maybe Stiles was just waiting because he didn’t want to seem too eager. By the fifth day that hope had lessened and these last two evenings Derek had spent sulking and trying not to think about it at all. Just goes to show how under his skin the busker has already gotten.

But now with Cora gone and the stupid REM on the radio, Derek is back into over-thinking mode. It’s been nearly two months since Derek first saw Stiles and isn’t that a shocking thought. To know someone for that long but not really know them at all. Sure, Derek knows some things; that Stiles is an amazing musician, that he seems to inspire friendliness in everyone, that his music taste seems just as eclectic as Derek’s reading taste, that his smile can cause a physical ache in Derek’s chest and that he has perfect hair for running fingers through. But anything deeper than that and Derek is absolutely in the dark. Strangely, the thought doesn’t sadden him anymore.

Maybe it’s better this way. Better to let Stiles go (because Derek is pretty sure he’ll have to move on after this week of radio silence) _without_ knowing anything more than what’s on the surface. Easier.

Who’s he kidding.

Derek is still filled with a furious desire to learn about Stiles. His favourite song, his parent’s names, where he went to school, whether he prefers toast or cereal for breakfast, his biggest fear, his greatest dream, if he’s a morning person like Derek.

Derek’s mind spends so long creating all these questions that when he falls asleep that night he dreams nothing at all.

* *

It’s just after opening time on Monday and Derek is sitting in the office going over the sales from last week again. He doesn’t expect any customers until the afternoon, Monday is always quiet, but the door’s open just in case. He’s almost 40 minutes in when he hears the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Derek moves his head so fast his neck cricks. He knows that voice.

Stiles is wearing black skinny jeans, a UCLA hoodie and scuffed converse. An image flashes in Derek’s mind of Stiles just in the jeans and he coughs and digs his fingernails into his palm to distract himself.

Stiles, who had looked around at the noise, is now staring right at Derek like he found his long lost brother or something. Derek feels it is mildly unfair of him to do so.

“Derek. Hi.” Stiles smiles and his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Hi.” He’s a little confused as to why Stiles is here, in his bookshop, on a Monday morning, so it comes out uncertain.

“I’m Stiles. But you probably knew that. Or I’m guessing you found out my name before you wrote yours on that coffee cup. Otherwise that’d be a little creepy.”

“You saw the coffee?” Derek mentally slaps himself for asking. I mean, he had put it _right in front_ of Stiles so of course the guy had seen it. But it had been a week and Derek had given up hope, so no wonder his gut reaction was surprise.

“Ah yeah, about that,” Stiles takes a hand out of his pocket to run it through his hair. “I’m kind of an idiotic, scatter-brined clutz – in an adorable way, of course.” Derek’s lips twitch. “But you gave it to me at the beginning of my session and I saw it and it was really um, sweet of you to do that – a little sappy but I’m a sucker for that on occasion – and then I got so side-tracked and afterwards I threw it out. Honestly, it was completely accidental.” The other hand comes out of the pocket now and he’s gesturing with both to compound his point. “I was kicking myself about it for a week.”

“Yeah.” Derek’s nods slowly, his brain still working over the ‘ _it was sweet_ ’ thing. Is that a rejection? It sounded like it could be one. Like saying thanks when someone says they love you. And why the hell is Derek thinking about love? That word needs to stay far away from him when Stiles is near.

“I’m so sorry about that, by the way. Again. Had I said it yet? Well if I didn’t, I’m sorry. But like I said, scatter-brained. I was freaking out about not knowing anything about you expect your first name and that you read a lot and that you’re built like a fridge – in a good way, yeah, wow...” Stiles trails off, staring, and then shakes his head furiously, “and then Scott must have told Allison about it and she told me you worked here.”

Derek is over-whelmed by the sheer amount of words pouring out of Stiles mouth. And it’s not just that, every word is punctuated by a hand gesture or a head movement or a little smile or an eye-roll and Derek’s brain is working furiously to categorise them all.

“Allison from the Visitor’s Centre?” _Nice one Derek, again with the stupid questions._

Stiles drops his shoulders like Derek following his conversation is some massive relief to him. It might be. He does speak fast. If Derek wasn’t a 600 words-per-minute reader he probably would have been lost.

“Yeah, my best friend Scott is dating her. There are no secrets between them.” He smiles like he finds that endearing and Derek is regaining confidence in his coffee cup idea, seeing that Stiles seems just as inclined towards romanticism as he is.

“Anyways,” Stiles continues, clasping his hands together in front of him. “I’ll be here on Friday from 1 till 2.” Derek nods as if he didn’t already know this. “Did you want to go grab a coffee afterwards? My treat.” He smiles his ridiculous full face grin. “I feel like I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me.”

“Well in that case, how about because I want to?” Stiles gives him a nervous smile and Derek feels himself smiling back.

“Ok. Sounds good.” He tells Stiles, finally feeling in control of his conversational abilities.

“Awesome. Are you going to be out in the courtyard like normal or should I just swing by when I’m done?”

Stiles has noticed him in the courtyard? Derek doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. He feels like he spends most of his time out there spacing-out slightly as he listens to Stiles perform. Which he might find complimentary actually. So maybe it _is_ a good thing that’s he noticed. What is it that Laura was always saying during her high school years, any attention is good attention?

And now he’s been thinking too long without saying anything.

“I’ll be in the courtyard.” Hopefully Stiles just assumed he’d been calculating whether he could be there, not panicking over finding out Stiles had been noticing him.

“Ok cool. Well I will see you on Friday then. Have a good day Derek.” He waves and walks out the shop.

Derek remains standing where he is, going over their conversation. Stiles was... well not exactly what Derek had thought he’d be. Certainly as energetic and enthusiastic as his performances had implied, but there was a gravitas to his movements – sporadic as they may have been – that appealed to Derek. Perhaps because they were such a contrast to his own minimalism.

And Erica was right. He was even more gorgeous up close.

If Derek thought his dreams were sinful before, they were going to be even worse now, because now he knew exactly how long Stiles’ fingers were, and just how pink and full his lips were, and how his hair looks after fingers have been run through it.

“Hey, Derek?! Oh.” Stiles obviously expected Derek to have moved away from the entrance and so when he pulls up short he is standing much closer to Derek than before.

Derek worries momentarily about what Stiles thinks of the fact that he hasn’t moved since he left. But then Stiles smiles and picks up their conversation as if they’d never stopped. “So I realised, I actually still don’t have your number, because I threw out that coffee cup. So I came to fix that before I screwed it up for a second time.”

Relived that Stiles didn’t act weird upon finding Derek frozen in the middle of his own store, Derek jumps at the chance to continue their conversation. And also at the chance to get Stiles' number.

“Let me just get my phone from the office.” Derek heads quickly to get it from where he left it on the desk that morning. He thinks he hears Stiles sigh and mutter something under his breath as he walks away but doesn’t catch it. “Here,” he presents his cell to Stiles when he gets back and those long fingers wrap around the offered electronic, sadly, or perhaps he should be grateful for it, missing any contact with his own.

Stiles quickly enters his name and number and goes ahead and sends himself a text from Derek’s phone judging by the little ping that emanates from his pocket a few seconds later.

“All done!” Stiles says cheerfully, handing the phone back to Derek. This time, their fingers do brush and Derek is surprised at how cold Stiles’ are, not at all like the warm ones he’d been imagining in his dreams. “So I’ve put my last name in there for you and yes, I am related to the ex-Sheriff. His son actually. So what’s your surname so we’re on even footing again?”

“Hale.”

“As in Hale Bookshop?” Stiles gestures upwards to the ceiling which Derek takes to mean the shop itself and not just that particular patch of roof.

“Yes, like this bookshop.” Derek smiles, proud that his sentence comes out as teasing and not sarcastic.

“Wow. I thought you just, like, worked here. I didn’t realise it was a family business kind of thing.” Stiles is craning his head and looking around as though the store is somehow different now that he knows. It’s almost adorable.

“Well now you do.” Derek replies, which is not the best statement to propel their conversation. And Derek very much wants to keep talking to Stiles. He’s still got about, oh, three thousand of Stiles’ gestures to categorise.

An alarm goes off on Stiles phone then and Derek is saved the trouble of finding a way to keep their conversation flowing.

“Sorry about that.” Stiles silences the alarm and puts his phone back in his jean pocket. “Work is calling.”

Derek nods in understanding.

“Well, it’s been nice meeting you officially. Again. See you on Friday.”

“Yeah, see you then.”

Stiles does a half-wave half-salute and heads back out the door.

Derek smiles himself silly and flops back onto the couch at the back of the store, covering his face with his hands.

He and Stiles are having coffee on Friday. A coffee date. He laughs and it feels wonderful.

-

Derek spends the rest of Monday walking around the shop and fussing with the ordering of the shelves. Locking up at closing time he can’t remember if anyone came in at all but when he double-checks the computer he can see he sold 7 books. He hopes he was at least coherent when he did that.

Derek drives slowly to his two bedroom house, makes himself dinner on autopilot, watches something on TV which he doesn’t register and finally climbs into bed.

Sleep doesn’t come quickly but his brain is already clouded with images and fantasies of Stiles that when he does slip from awake to asleep it’s unnoticeable.

The next morning when he wakes up he feels a lingering warmth from arms which were wrapped around him in the dream, mole covered hands with slender fingers pressing into his chest.

**

Setting their date for a whole 5 days later means Derek has a lot of time to think about himself and Stiles. He tries to distract himself with mocking up new business expansion plans for the empty lot next door but as much as he loves his job and the bookstore, there is only so much work his brain can take before thoughts of slender fingers on a guitar cross his mind.

Derek’s almost relived when on Wednesday he parks his car and makes his way up the lane to see a new banner strung across it. It’s a noisy affair with graphics of trees and sunshine and the grassy park proclaiming the upcoming annual Beacon Hills Historic Town Festival. The festival was started back in the 50s but only lasted a few years. Mayor Whittemore started it up again in the 80s and it’s gotten even bigger since the Argent’s took over, with almost every store in The Historic Village given a massive outdoor stand to promote themselves. The art gallery offers classes for all age groups (although the kids craft stands are most popular) and there is a proper stage set up on the grassy oval with live music all day and even a couple of dance groups.

For Derek and Laura it means time spent looking for local based books to showcase; either books by local authors or non-fiction literature about Beacon Hills’ history. Laura managed to find several boxes of photography based journals of the town a few years back and they were still getting through them, only bringing them out at the fair when the town experienced a sudden increase in local patriotism.

Derek lets himself in to the already open store and Laura immediately pokes her head out the office, smiling with excitement. “Did you see the banner Der?”

“Couldn’t miss it this year. It’s very boisterous.”

Laura laughs and comes over to give Derek a hug. “I have a feeling this year is going to be a good one.” She says that every year but Derek lets it go without comment. “I got the local author boxes out of storage so they’re in the office if you want to look through them before the book fair on Saturday, make sure you know what to get.” She ruffles his hair and disappears amongst the stacks to do something probably a lot easier that what she’s just asked Derek to do. Luckily for her, Derek is still buoyed by his meeting with Stiles on Monday and the chance to get to know him so he simply flattens his hair back down and goes to confront the boxes in the office.

**

The day before the coffee date Derek finishes his list of things to get from the weekend’s book fair and in an effort to stop himself from walking across to the cafe and letting Erica know about his date tomorrow, he dusts. It’s a bit of a low for him but Laura is grateful and offers to lock up that night instead of him so he can leave early.

He’s not entirely sure why he doesn’t feel like telling Erica. It probably has something to do with her love of teasing him and actual knowledge of who Stiles is (as opposed to his sisters who know only vaguely about ‘a crush’). But if he’s being totally honest, it’s also the thought that if everything goes horribly, horribly wrong then at least no-one will know and give him pity for it.

Leaving early that evening is a relief for about 20 minutes after which Derek starts trying to prepare for tomorrow’s date. It mainly involves listening to a lot of his mum’s kind of music for reasons he can’t bother to analyse – besides, that’s what Laura’s for – and realising that he forgot to do his washing on the weekend while in his funk that Stiles’ hadn’t called.

Derek does a quick load of washing and then spends the time waiting for the cycle composing a mental list of conversation topics for tomorrow. He is fairly confident, even knowing as little of Stiles as he does, that they won’t need his topics, but it makes him feel calmer. By the time he climbs into bed that night he’s back to looking forwards to tomorrow.

**

The morning is a bit of a blur for Derek but he is rudely aware of his body as he leaves for the courtyard that afternoon. His palms seem enormous and his throat strangely clenched. He licks his lips a lot as he walks down the street to sit in the courtyard.

Stiles must have been looking out for him because as soon as Derek sits down and focuses on him he gives Derek a big grin and lifts his guitar towards him even though it’s mid-song. Derek smiles easily back and lets himself relax.

Listening to Stiles’ usual mix of top 40, classics and classical music, Derek can’t help but feel happy and peaceful, almost like they’ve already done the date successfully. It’s just something about the way Stiles is so... himself. At ease in his skin in a way that Derek admires. It makes him feel comfortable.

His eyes dance over the _'just here to entertain'_ sign and then Derek lets himself watch Stiles openly for once. Screw getting embarrassed about being caught. After the coffee cup, Derek doesn’t think it really matters.

Stiles’ hour seems to fly by while Derek watches him and daydreams about nothing in particular, just hazy thoughts about slender fingers and whiskey eyes and never ending smiles. He packs up and Derek meets him halfway across the courtyard.

“Can I carry anything for you?” Stiles doesn’t have anything beyond his guitar and his sign but Derek thinks it can’t hurt to be chivalrous.

“Thanks. Here.” Stiles gives him the sign which is nearly 3 feet in length and surprisingly heavy. After they order coffees at the counter Derek and Stiles sit at one of the cafe’s outdoor wooden tables. Derek leans the sign gently against the table legs then flexes his fingers.

Stiles laughs at the movement. “It’s heavier than it looks isn’t it? Good thing I’m stronger than I look.” He winks at Derek and Derek’s _'yeah'_ in response to the first phrase gets stuck in his throat. He feels his cheeks heat and wonders just how flirty Stiles meant the statement to be. “But truthfully, I needed it printed on the thicker cardboard to get the quality I wanted. Worth it though.”

“I like the sign. It’s almost like an artwork.” Stiles’ eyes sparkle at Derek.

“Really? You don’t think it’s too gaudy?” The question seems like a challenge and Derek swallows before shaking his head. Thankfully Stiles seems ratified. “I designed it.” Derek can almost feel the pride radiating from Stiles and he’s relived for answering the question right.

“Well done.” Derek means it. It’s not just the message, it’s the aesthetics of the thing, how the words are crafted and colours combined in a way that just _looking_ at it makes you happy. “Is that a hobby for you? Design?”

“Yes and no.” Their coffees come out then – plain black for Derek and a cappuccino for Stiles – and when the waitress leaves Derek nods at Stiles to continue. “I’m a graphic designer. Freelance. So design is my job. But it’s also something I love and am really passionate about. I’m lucky that I can make a living out what started out as my hobby. It’s pretty amazing.”

Derek smiles at how much Stiles clearly loves it.

“So how about you?” Stiles asks after eating a spoonful of foam off his cappuccino. “What do you do? With life and stuff.”

“Vague question,” Derek points out. Stiles just shrugs at him as he takes another spoonful of foam. “I work at the bookshop with Laura, my older sister.”

“I already knew that, idiot.” Stiles smiles at Derek so he knows the ' _idiot'_ is in jest. “Like, aside from that. You studying somewhere? Or actually,” he puts his spoon down and spends a few seconds looking Derek over during which Derek has time to think of at least four different concerns about his appearance starting with his teeth and ending with everything he’s wearing, “you look like you could’ve graduated ages ago but I’m crazy bad at guessing ages, so...”

“I actually own the book shop.” Stiles eyebrows shoot up and it’s so comical that Derek laughs. “Our great-grandparents opened it but sold it to an outside family. Since my uncle bought it back from them though it’s essentially been a family business. Everything’s under my name now; has been for just over a year.”

“Wow. First I assume you just work there, and then I find out it’s your family’s store, and now I learn it’s actually yours.” Stiles nods his head like he’s impressed but then squints his eyes and cocks his head a little. “You seem a bit young to own your own business.”

“I thought you weren’t good as guessing ages.” Derek teases. “I’m 27, but people often think I’m the older sibling, not Laura, so.” He shrugs. “I’ve already graduated, so you were right on that account. Completed a business management degree just over a year ago now, so running the bookshop is my career I suppose.”

“Did Laura do business as well?”

“No. Not at all. I don’t think she’d touch anything that relates even faintly to maths.”

“Good for her.” Stiles quirks his lips.

“She did a Masters in psychology. She’s working at the high school as a counsellor but only part-time so she can help me run the store.”

“So you and Laura co-run it, but it’s really you doing all the heavy duty stuff.”

“That’s one way to look at it.” Derek laughs. “Don’t tell Laura though, she’d probably wallop you with the biggest book she could find.”

Stiles throws his head back and laughs. It accentuates the length of his neck and Derek is once again struck by a desire to lean across and lick under his jaw and place kisses all up and down Stiles’ neck. He balls his fists under the table and clears his throat, pressing on with his point so he doesn’t do something less predictable.

“You laugh like it’s funny but I’m dead serious. She would not hesitate. She once pinched me so hard I was bruised for weeks.”

Stiles doesn’t even have the audacity to pretend to be frightened of the idea of Laura, instead he laughs harder.

“Why did she pinch you? There has to be a good story behind this.”

“I wish.” Derek frowns. He remembers the bruises and they hurt. “All I did was insinuate that she would have been in Slytherin.”

“Well,” Stiles has stopped laughing but looks as though it’s very hard to hold it in. “Hogwarts houses are a serious, serious business.”

That comment starts the two off on a pop-culture tangent and they discover they’re fairly evenly matched in terms of breadth of knowledge. However where Derek is all about books and lots of classic movies and literature, Stiles is contemporary to a T, seeming to have seen every movie released in the past year and able to wax poetic about soon-to-be-released movies, music and comics. Their discussion continues for long enough that they both order second coffees. When Derek jokes that it seems he’s read Stiles under the table, Stiles lets slip something that is normally a deal-breaker for Derek with relationships.

“I’m not actually a big reader.” Derek’s jaw drops against his will. His brain starts shot-circuiting, chanting a series of ‘ _what_ ’ and ‘ _but how_ ’ and even a stray ‘ _thank goodness he’s attractive_ ’. Stiles jolts him out of his stupor.

“Hey now! Don’t give me that look. I’m not a big reader but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy books.”

Again, the word _‘what’_ is travelling around his brain. Derek moves his jaw back to its regular position, and manages to get out, “Explain.”

“I like audio books. I don’t have the focus for just sitting there and reading. With audio books I can do other stuff as well. It’s better for my attention span.”

Derek thinks it over. Stiles did always seem in motion, fingers tapping, head nodding to some internal music, hands flying as he talks. It’s actually been a constant feature in the dreams Derek has of Stiles, hands constantly in motion, his body constantly stimulated seemingly everywhere at once.

But that is a thought for another time.

“I can’t say I’ve ever listened to an audio book,” he admits to Stiles, “At least, not all the way through.”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine. They’re not for everyone. It was my mum’s idea for me to try them, or else I probably never would’ve thought of it.” Stiles gets a funny look in his eyes when he mentions his mother, and Derek, attuned acutely to the movement of Stiles, notices that his fingers still where they’ve been tapping on the side of his empty coffee mug. “Just imagine, I’d probably have been stuck reading comics my whole life.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Derek manages to reply with some semblance of actually meaning it. He thinks.

“Ha! Derek, you don’t have to say that man. God, you looked in pain.”

Derek ducks his head to hide his smile. Stiles was right.

Derek is happy to find that conversation flows easily between them and they outlast all the other patrons at the coffee shop. He doesn’t realise this though until the waiter comes over and gently tells them that they’re closing in 5 minutes. He realises that being with Stiles has probably been the easiest and most fun first date he’s ever been on in his life and while he isn’t looking for anything like sex to happen tonight, he doesn’t want to say goodbye to Stiles yet either.

“Did you want to go see the shop?” Derek offers. Stiles had confessed after the audio book discussion that he’d actually only ever been to the bookstore that one time to ask Derek out for coffee.

Stiles raises his eyebrows and parts his mouth in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. You haven’t been in before and...” Derek cuts himself off, embarrassed.

“And?” Stiles encourages.

Derek takes a deep breath and looks away from Stiles as he says, “And I want to spend some more time with you.”

“Me too.” Stiles says.

After a mini-argument before leaving Derek relents to letting Stiles pay for his coffee, having gotten distracted by Stiles' flyaway hands. As they head to the store, Derek’s heartbeat suddenly becomes furious as he remembers Laura had been looking after the store in the afternoon and may still be there. He glances at his watch and sees that it’s past closing time, crossing his fingers that Laura didn’t decide to hang back today.

When they reach the store the lights are all off and Derek breathes a sigh of relief. He opens the door and ushers Stiles in ahead of him, flicking the lights on and closing the door behind him. Stiles is looking around eagerly.

“Tour?” Derek offers.

“Yes please.” Stiles replies. He holds up his sign and guitar, asking “Where can I put these?”

“Office is probably best.” Derek opens the door for Stiles and turns the light on in there, waving vaguely to show he can put his things down anywhere. “So this is the office slash storage area. It’s a little more haphazard than normal because we’re organising books for the festival.” Derek watches as Stiles takes in the half filled boxes of local books and unsorted piles of books surrounding them.

Derek scratches nervously at his forearm. “I feel like I should apologize for the mess.”

“No need.” Stiles is still taking everything in with eager eyes. “This is looking eerily as organised as my apartment. I’ve been there for, like, 3 months now but I swear every day I find a new box that needs unpacking.”

After the office, Derek walks Stiles through the aisles, pointing out where the various genres are and childishly complaining about how Laura never agrees with where he puts the historical fiction and their ongoing passive aggressive re-shelving war. Stiles laughs at that and stops walking, causing Derek to bump into him from behind. Derek flushes and steps away quickly, trying not to think about the heat against his thighs where Stiles’ body had pressed for a second.

They end up on the couch against the back wall of the shop and Stiles starts bombarding Derek with questions about the bookshop. It’s actually nice to answer them, even if the number of them is overwhelming. Most people tend not to be too interested beyond the initial _‘oh, a bookshop, cool’_ but it feels good to tell Stiles more about the business side of things. He even opens up about his idea to buy the empty lot next door and expand the shop, something he’s only briefly mentioned to Laura. Stiles is enthused by the prospect, despite never having bought a book from here. He side-eyes Derek as he mentions innocently that he’d have room for an audio book section if he does that.

Their light-hearted, first date, finding things out conversation takes a dip when Stiles asks a seemingly innocent question and Derek finds himself opening up about fears which he doesn’t normally share. Especially not to a guy he barely knows. But really, Derek has been watching Stiles perform for what feels like months and months (and actually has been more than two), and spent a great deal of time when not watching him remembering the way his voice floated over the melody of the strings, and imagining his fingers dancing across his body like they do over the guitar strings. So his subconscious seems to have found some level of comfort with Stiles already, despite today being only their second time talking to each other.

“I don’t think I could have done it without her though.” Derek finds himself telling Stiles. He’d asked about working with Laura, who already has a job, as opposed to hiring someone else. “I’m not...” Derek wraps his fingers around his knees. “Sometimes I struggle with the social side of the business – connecting to customers and things. I love to read, I’m good with recommendations, and the business management side is fascinating to me, it’s just...” He sighs and rubs a hand roughly over his jaw.

Stiles, who has been filling in silences all afternoon, gives Derek the space to sort out the words in his head.

“I come from a really big family. Fitting in – acceptance – was always automatic, expected almost, you know? They’re your family. You love them and they love you. Guaranteed. But talking to people without that guarantee is daunting. Even in this space that I own and love.” Derek lets out a relived breath after finishing and leans back against the couch, closing his eyes. “I didn’t ask her to, but I think Laura just figured it out and she’s been with me from the start.”

Stiles waits a beat and then Derek hears him lean back into the couch too. “She sounds like a great sister.”

Derek hums an agreement.

“Well, just so you know,” Stiles begins softly as if on an exhale, “I think you’re doing admirably so far. At opening up to someone new.”

Derek opens his eyes and smiles hopefully at Stiles, who smiles right back, brown eyes sparkling.

Stiles only stays a few moments longer before consulting his phone and calling it a night. He retrieves his stuff from the office and Derek shuts everything off behind them and locks up before walking Stiles to his car. It’s officially night now and Derek watches Stiles’ eyes track the constellations as they amble to the carpark. His skin seems even paler in the moonlight, and the moles across his cheeks and neck are standing out in stark contrast.

“So,” Stiles begins, making his way to the driver’s door after putting his things in the trunk, “I had a really wonderful afternoon. And also evening.”

“Me too.” Derek smiles with the truth of his statement.

Stiles drums his fingers on the open door for a few seconds, glancing upwards at the stars again, seeming to debate something over in his head. Derek waits for Stiles to make the next move.

Eventually Stiles stills his fingers and says a simple, ' _goodnight Derek'_ , before getting into his car and driving away.

Derek hadn’t realised, lost in Stiles presence, that he’d been feeling nervous. As he stares at the disappearing lights of Stiles' jeep he realises he’d been anticipating a goodnight kiss. He frowns slightly at himself. Maybe he’d ruined the mood back at the store, opening up to Stiles so deeply. Frankly, that was the opposite of his usual dating habits, divulging his faults first.

Perhaps after waiting so long to actually meet Stiles properly he subconsciously made the decision to not waste any more time. Tell the truth right off the bat and if he doesn’t stay after that, well... Derek sighs.

He drives slowly home, not listening to any music at all. When he gets there he sets his alarm for early the next morning so he can drive the several towns over and be there for the book fair’s 9am opening.

* *

The book fair on Saturday is a disappointment. Derek can only find 6 books for the Beacon Hills Historic Town Festival and teeters close to honking the car horn continuously as he battles horrible traffic back to the bookstore.

Laura is busy with weekend customers when Derek gets back but after they leave she pokes her head into the office where Derek is pricing his measly 6 books.

“How’d it go?” She walks across the office and crouches down next to him.

“Not good.” He places a book onto his local author pile with particular force.

Laura looks at him with concern. “Ok. Don’t stress yourself out about it. We can manage with what we already have.”

Derek calls as she goes to leave, “I think I’ll try the Mayfold Hills fair tomorrow, see if I have more luck with somewhere closer to Beacon Hills.”

She pirouettes in the doorway to face him. “Sounds good. You’ll have to close the store tomorrow if you’re doing that though. I’m running the PTA meeting, remember?”

“We can handle a day off, that’s fine. We’ll make up whatever sales we lose at the Festival.”

“Good, and hey, I’ll check with Danny to see if they’ve got anything new at the antique store.”

“Ok.” Derek’s phone pings with an incoming text notification as Laura leaves. It’s from Stiles. Derek can’t help but smile with relief that he hadn’t stuffed things up last night.

_Hey Derek :) Just saying thanks again for yesterday_  
_and also_  
_I have a day off from busking tomorrow and was wondering whether you wanted to meet up again??_

Derek’s mood shifts from glum to happy very rapidly. Should he blow off the Mayfold Hills fair? It’s incredibly tempting, spending even more time with Stiles. Asking new questions, maybe making up for bringing the mood down last night and hopefully getting to the kissing stage. But sensibility wins out.

_Hey Stiles. No need to thank me for yesterday. I had a good time. I’m actually going to a book fair tomorrow to get some things for the Festival though. Sorry._

Stiles’ reply is almost instantaneous. Derek can picture perfectly his nimble fingers typing the messages.

_ok cool. no problem_  
_Being a good business man I see :P_

Derek bites his lip thinking as an idea comes to him. Another one of those ones that Erica would tease him mercilessly for. But the coffee cup was a success, wasn’t it? So maybe this will be too.

_Did you want to come with me?_

Derek hesitates only a second before hitting send.

_Well, you watched me play guitar, it’s probably only fair I watch you browse some books._

Derek frowns and sends: _I’m not sure that makes any sense._

_Doesn’t have to :P_

The response isn’t exactly a yes and when Stiles doesn’t send anything further Derek starts pacing the office, worried – again – that he’s done something to turn Stiles away.

Then his phone starts ringing.

“Hello?” He answers without looking at the caller ID.

“Derek! Hey!” It’s Stiles.

“Hi Stiles.” He doesn’t want to come out and ask why Stiles’ is calling but he figures it has something to do with Stiles talking quicker than he texts. And also hopefully to answer his question clearly.

“So, I’m calling because the answer is yes. I’d love to go to the book fair with you. Are they going to have audio books there?” Derek rolls his eyes, hearing the teasing tone over the phone. “Kidding. No, it’s because I figured it’s easier to plan things this way. You know, car pooling and food supplies and whatever else one needs when buying lots of books at a fair.” Derek can hear music in the background wherever Stiles is.

“Well there isn’t that much to plan really.” Stiles makes a noise of agreement. “I’ve got a list of things we’d be looking out for. It would probably only take an hour or two.”

“Ok then. Do we want to carpool? I have no clue where the Mayfold Hills Scout Hall is so when I say carpool, I mean-”

“You looked the fair up?”

“Yeah, that’s why it took me so long to get back to you.” Derek smiles.

“I’ll drive you.”

“Awesome. I was going to try and get you to offer anyways in some roundabout way that didn’t seem like I was pestering you. So yeah, that works for me. I’ll meet you at the book store though tomorrow, make it a bit easier for you.”

“I could pick you up from your place if you wanted?” Derek offers, only partially driven by a desire to see where Stiles lives. After all, fantasies are better if in a truthful setting.

“Nah, it’s no problem. I need to meet up with Chris in the afternoon anyways.”

“Ok then. Is 8am good?”

Stiles groans across the line. “So. Early. It’s a good thing I like you so much then.” Derek blushes. “Want me to bring breakfast?”

“Only if you feel like it.”

“I always feel like breakfast. So I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yes. 8am.”

“Bright and early. Don’t remind me. Later Derek.”

“Bye Stiles.”

Derek hangs up smiling and his happiness continues on through the rest of the day.

* *

At 8:07am on Sunday Derek is leaning against the display window of the book store and checking his watch. Since stores don’t open until 9 on weekends the only other people in the Historical Village are the owners of the cafe setting up across from him. He sighs and looks at his watch again and this time when he looks up, Stiles is running down the path towards him.

Derek straightens up off the wall and walks towards Stiles, smiling at him and offering a wave which Stiles returns.

“Hey there. Sorry I’m late.” Stiles puffs when he reaches Derek. “Breakfast took longer to make than first anticipated. I couldn’t find my wooden spoons anywhere and big surprise, they were in the only box I hadn’t unpacked yet.”

“You made breakfast for us?” Derek is a little bit amazed. He doesn’t know why exactly but Stiles-as-a-cook hadn’t really been one of his top takeaway impressions of the other man. He assumed Stiles would just buy breakfast from somewhere.

“Bacon and egg rolls. Hope you like.” He presses a paper bag with a still warm roll inside it into Derek’s hand then starts back towards the carpark, taking his own roll out and starting to eat it.

Derek follows, brain still wrapping itself around Stiles-as-a-cook. It’s early in the morning so his mental filter isn’t fully on, meaning his brain is mainly just providing images of Stiles in an apron in Derek’s kitchen. Taking a bite of the bread roll Derek has to swallow a moan. It’s really good.

“So which one is yours?” Stiles asks, bringing Derek back to the present. “Wait, no. I’m going to guess.”

There are only 5 cars in the lot besides Stiles’ jeep so the odds are fairly good he’ll be able to guess it.

“Black camaro?” Derek smiles and nods. “Yes! God I was hoping it was. This thing looks majestic.”

He rushes off toward the car and does a slow circle of it as he waits for Derek to catch up.

“Wait,” he asks, “are we allowed to eat in this thing? What if I get crumbs everywhere? It’s pretty much a guarantee that I will.”

“Don’t worry about it. The inside’s not as nice as the outside, I promise.” Derek unlocks the car and Stiles opens the passenger door with reverence.

“It’s good by the way. The breakfast. Thank you.” Derek tells Stiles as he buckles in and starts the car.

“No problem. Another one of my hobbies. Not normally one I enjoy in the AM hours I will admit. But only because I’m normally enjoying another one of my favourite hobbies.”

“Sleeping?” Derek guesses.

“Haha, yes. Exactly.” Stiles takes a big bite of his bacon and egg roll and true to his word, Derek can see crumbs rolling down to the floor of his car.

“So are we looking for anything in particular?” Stiles asks a few minutes into the drive, after the food has woken him up a bit.

“Well I’ve got a list of things but you don’t have to help with that. Just look for whatever interests you.”

“Oh I see, this is like some kind of test so you can judge me based on the books I choose.” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows at Derek. It’s a ridiculous expression which he isn’t even close to pulling off.

“I’m not one to judge other people on the books they read. I pretty much read anything as long as it’s interesting.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that actually. You’re always reading a different book every time I see you. It got super confusing there, me trying to figure you out based on your books. I’ve pinned you down as some kind of high-brow literary type with poetry books then all of a sudden you’re reading a Stephen King or a Mathew Reilly or, like, a biography on Madonna or something. I gave up trying to figure you out that way pretty quick. Besides, talking face-to-face is much more fun.” Stiles smiles at Derek and nudges him with his elbow. Derek’s heart stutters and he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Derek is pretty sure he is blushing but Stiles either doesn’t notice or doesn’t point it out. Thank god.

“Well I think I’ll just help you out with your list. Local authors right? Are there any? I’ve always thought Beacon Hills had like nada in the artistic, expressionistic department.”

“There’s you.”

Stiles blinks and reaches up to run a hand through his hair.

“Thanks man.” He gives a half-smile and clears his throat. “So aside from my super-talented self then. And as an aside I would not have the patience for writing.”

“I made a copy of the list actually, just in case.” Derek pulls into the Scout Hall parking lot. “It’s not very long though so maybe you’re right about the talent thing.” He gets out the car and hands the spare list to Stiles to read as they go through the doors into the hall.

It’s a regular set up; rows of tables with boxes of books on them, ordered by genre. It’s moderately crowded in the hall, which is on the small side, but mostly just the avid collectors at this time of the morning which Derek prefers. Less fuss. Except that one time at the Hillstown book fair but Derek likes to try and forget that particular incident.

“Oh hey. There’s a Hale on here. Maria Hale. Is she related to you?”

“That’s my great-grandmother, the one who started the shop.”

“Nice.” He draws the word out. “So, where is the best place to find these books?” Derek points to a sign on the far side of the hall. “’Mayfold Hills and Surrounding Counties Authors.’” Stiles reads aloud. “Well, that is very considerate of them. Lets away.”

It takes them longer than Derek’s predicted hour or two to look through the books, mainly because Stiles asks a lot of questions about the different authors and insists on finding at least one of Maria Hale’s books which for reasons unknown is hidden amongst the cookbook section, where Derek also finds another 3 books for Boyd’s collection. He thinks Stiles must be some kind of good luck charm.

They end up needing a large box to carry all their books as well as the two canvas bags Derek had initially brought with them. After Derek pays the elderly lady who rung up their books, Stiles quickly puts both bags on his shoulders before Derek can get to them so he’s left with box. It’s not heavy for Derek but just bulky and hard to see over. Because they arrived early though they got a parking spot right at the entrance to the hall.

Derek carries the box of books to the camaro and tries very hard, and very unsuccessfully, not to blush when he realises he’s left the car keys in his back pocket.

“Open up please.” Stiles says standing near the back of the car, hands already braced and ready to lift the trunk.

“Um...” Derek begins elegantly. “The keys are in my back pocket.”

“Oh.” Stiles moves his hands off the car.

“Let me just put this box down and then I can-”

“Don’t bother. I can get them. I’ll be quicker.”

Derek has no time to prepare before Stiles is behind him, one hand braced on his back between his shoulder blades and the other in his right-back pocket. The keys are easy to find and Stiles doesn’t spend long searching but it’s enough that Derek’s head is swimming with thoughts about other places his hands could be.

“Got ‘em.” Stiles says and unlocks the car, offloading the canvas bags into the trunk and staying there while Derek puts the box in and pushes it right to the back. The two are very close, inches apart and unlike the other day in the book store, Derek can feel heat coming off Stiles. Derek straightens up slowly and looks into Stiles eyes for a second before heading to the driver’s side door and getting in, turning the engine on. In his rear-view mirror he sees Stiles close the trunk and drop his head for a moment, mouth moving like he’s speaking to himself.

Stiles smiles as he gets into the car and does his seatbelt. While Derek’s back is turned to reverse out of the car spot, Stiles starts rooting around in the glove box. When Derek turns back he’s holding out a CD and his eyebrows are reaching hairline levels of being raised.

“Jason Mraz? Seriously?” Stiles waves the CD around near Derek’s face, almost nicking him in the jaw.

Derek moves his head away and frowns at the road. He feels his face heating up – again, why does Stiles have this affect on him? – and deepens his scowl. Can he really be blamed for buying the CD when _The Remedy_ played all over the radio for practically a whole year? It grew on him.

(He keeps the CD in his car because it’s his go-to album when he’s had a crap day.)

“I thought you weren’t judging me on my leisure preferences?”

“Leisure preferences? _Leisure preferances!?_ ” Stiles throws his head back and laughs which Derek has come to realise is a massive turn on for him. Derek sighs. Hopefully causing someone to laugh this much is a good way to win a heart. Particularly if that heart is Stiles’.

“Ah, sorry about that.” Stiles finally finishes laughing a minute later and wipes tears from the corners of his eyes. “Leisure preferences. I’ll have to add it to my phrase book. And nah, I’m not judging you on the CDs you keep in your car.” Derek also has the _Inception_ soundtrack, a Nina Simone album and a mixtape he’s labelled ‘ _the parents_ ’ so he’s kind of glad to hear that. His music taste is as varied as the books he reads. “He’s got some good songs Mraz. Good for singing with a guitar.” And then Stiles gets a thoughtful look and twirls the CD slowly in his hands.

Stiles puts the Jason Mraz CD on and he cajoles Derek into singing along which has them both in stitches from laughter by the end of it because they started making up their own ridiculous lyrics when they didn’t know the real ones.

Stiles gets a text from Chris postponing their meeting so when they get back to the Historical Village Stiles helps Derek carry the books to the store and then separate the ones for the fair from the other purchases. Derek postpones shelving the books in favour of leading Stiles to one of the couches at the back of the store so they can talk some more.

“So why did you start guitar then?”

Stiles scratches his head and lifts his shoulders up in a shrug.

“Um, I don’t really have a strong why in regards to starting, it’s more a why I kept going.” He puts his hands together in his lap and stares at them as he links and unlinks his fingers. Derek watches them move with fascination. Paying attention to them up close as opposed to his normal distance he can see that the fingernails on the right hand are slightly longer than those on the left. He makes a mental note to ask Stiles why that is.

Stiles stays staring at his hands but resumes talking.

“My mother decided to start teaching me when I was really young. She bought me one of those three-quarter length guitars with markings on the fret for different octaves and things. So initially there wasn’t really a why at all – she loved music, I loved music, we had some time on the weekends.” Stiles fingers are still linking and interlinking and Derek can see that the skin is starting to redden.

“She considered herself a classical guitarist but I preferred pop and rock stuff. I mean, I was young, I just wanted to bash out some chords and sing something. Mum was all about the intricacy and the delicacy and the tactility of plucking out a melody on the strings. We compromised of course.

“Then when I was about 14 she got sick. Not bad sick, but enough that the lessons got less frequent and I was playing more by myself than with her.” Stiles’ breathing has gotten shallower and his continuous hand movements are so quick and jolted that Derek is sure his nails are scratching at his skin.

“She passed away when I was 16. It was hard. It’s still hard sometimes to be honest. But that’s why I play. For her. And for my dad. I know he misses her and I think he likes to hear me play. Feels like she’s with us still you know.”

Derek can’t stand the way Stiles hands are still frantically moving in his lap and he swears he can see blood pooling under the surface in areas. He reaches out his hands, capturing Stiles’ in his own and holding them until Stiles’ fingers still. Stiles breathes out deeply and turns to face Derek. His eyes are glassy but he offers a small smile and doesn’t pull his hands away.

“It happened years ago. I’ve done all the phases of grief. It’s just... it’s the anniversary of her death tomorrow. I always get a bit jittery close to it.” Derek rubs circles on Stiles hands and Stiles leans towards him. The movement is so infinitesimal that Derek probably would have missed it had he not been attuned to Stiles’ every move.

They stay staring at each other, Derek trying to offer comfort without saying anything, and gradually Stiles’ breathing slows down. He keeps looking at Derek though, and Derek feels a thrumming start in his toes and work its way up his body until he feels an almost inescapable pull towards Stiles. He breathes in deeply through his nose and looks down at Stiles’ red and bitten lips. He wants to lean in and press his own against them.

Stiles moves his hands away, interrupting the fantasy.

“Thanks Derek. I don’t... I don’t talk about it much.” He rubs his hands heavily over his face and through his hair. “Only with friends.”

Derek feels as if a stone has dropped into his gut. Stiles is smiling gently at him but... _Friends_. The word sits heavy inside Derek.

Friends.

Derek pastes on a smile but Stiles isn’t looking at him anymore anyway. He glances at his watch and runs his hand through his hair again.

“Oh man.” He laughs shakily. “I’m supposed to be meeting my dad for dinner. We’d normally do it tomorrow but he couldn’t get out of work so...” He stands up and stretches. If Derek wasn’t still having a minor crisis of feeling he would have appreciated the way Stiles' top rode up to reveal a glimpse of pale skin.

Stiles turns back to look at Derek, still frozen in place on the couch.

“Uh...” Stiles bites down on his already abused lip. “Are you going to be at the Festival next weekend?”

Derek stands up slowly and joins Stiles.

“Yes. Laura and I are setting up a stall in the courtyard. It’s why we bought those local author books at the fair.”

“Of yeah, of course.” Stiles looks around distractedly, still worrying at his lip. “Good. I’ll come find you at some stage.”

“Can I walk you to your car?” Derek doesn’t know why he asks really, after all, the first time Stiles and he had wound up at the bookshop talking he’d done it without asking. But the friends comment is sitting weirdly in his chest still and the question just came out.

Stiles finally looks at Derek and nods, and the pair walk down the near-empty street to the carpark where Stiles heads toward his blue jeep. Derek hesitates by the car as Stiles goes to open the door. He had originally planned the night ending with him bracketing Stiles against his jeep and kissing him softly goodnight. Maybe even going as far as finally finding out what it would be like to kiss every single mole covering his neck. But as much as his body wants to pull Stiles in for a kiss, the word ' _friends'_ is swimming around in his head and he’s not sure that him and Stiles are on the same page anymore.

Stiles climbs into the jeep without fuss and gives Derek a wave and a small smile before driving away.

Derek walks slowly back to the store as opposed to continuing onto his car and driving home. His thoughts are going haywire as he looks back at his weekend and he’s clear minded enough to know that driving right now would be bad.

Stiles said that they were friends. Even if the cafe thing on Friday wasn’t a date Derek swears that the book fair visit was. That’s what he intended it to be. Had he actually said that word though? Date? Crap, he didn’t think he had.

Ok then, ok. Not the worst thing in the world. Stiles was an amazing guy, being friends with him would be just as satisfying and being his boyfriend. That wasn’t true though. Derek couldn’t kid himself that he didn’t fantasize about Stiles. His dreams were taking on an alarmingly consistent theme of a certain whiskey eyed musician.

Maybe he read the signs wrong. Maybe Cora is right and those romance novels are going to his head. Maybe Derek is foolishly over-thinking every interaction and turning friendly things into romantic ones.

Once back at the store Derek sits on the couch with his legs hooked over the armrest. He goes back and forth between hoping Stiles is interested in him romantically and fearing that Stiles just sees him as a potential friend and nothing more. By the time he settles on _'be realistic, Stiles doesn’t see you like that,'_ his palms are red and tingly from where he’s rubbed them over his stubble.

But he can’t just let it go at that because, truth is, two days with Stiles and he’s already invested. He doesn’t want to just give up now. It’s time for a second opinion.

He hits speed dial #2 and waits as the phone rings for several seconds before it stops and he hears a clink of something come through the phone. “What’s up? This is Erica.”

“Hey, it’s Derek.”

“Big D! What can I do you for?”

“Firstly, don’t call me that. Secondly, are you free right now?” Derek sits up properly in his chair.

“As a bird. Boyd’s got work drinks tonight so it’s just me and my best friend, Cabernet Sauvignon.” She laughs and Derek hears the clink again, probably from a wineglass.

For some reason the sound is like a warning bell in his head and he is suddenly doubting the wisdom of bringing his troubles to Erica. Particularly if she’s started on the wine. He imagines laughter in his future. And nagging. God, this is why he hasn’t talked about this with her yet. Or anyone for that matter.

“Derek? You there?”

“What? Oh yes, yeah, sorry.” He runs a hand over his face.

“Do you need me to come over?” There’s silence on the other end so Derek knows Erica is serious.

“No I’m fine, really.” He imagines she’s raising her eyebrows at him. “I just...” Derek sighs, nervous. _Last chance to pull out of this conversation_ , he tells himself. But he knows he wouldn’t have called if he wasn’t going to end up bringing the conversation around to it eventually, so he takes a deep breath and asks, “How do you know if you’re dating someone?”

Derek waits, expecting to hear Erica’s laugh through the phone, but it doesn’t come.

“Is this about Mr Unfortunate-Name?”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah him. Poor guy.” She sighs.

“Erica!” Derek admonishes over the phone.

“Ah, sorry. I’m blaming the wine.” He hears her take another sip. It’s possibly to prove her point or to buy her time before she responds. Knowing Erica it’s probably both. “ _Have_ you gone on a date with him?

“I don’t know Erica. That’s why I’m calling you.” His voice sounds very testy, even to his own ears. “I thought it was a date but then he said something about me being a friend and, I don’t know... ”

“Ok, ok. Deep breaths. What did this date involve?”

“Well today we went to the book fair together and he helped me get things ready for the Festival. And on Friday we met for coffee and talked.”

“About what?”

“Lots of things. Me, him, books, movies, work.”

“Did you pay?”

“No. He did.”

“Well,” Erica begins slowly, “based on what I know so far it does _sound_ like a date.”

Derek sighs. “He only payed because he thought he owed me for the coffee I gave him.” _And I got distracted by his hands_ , Derek thinks to himself.

“I’m lost. When did you give him coffee?” He hears the clink again.

“Um, two weeks ago.” He clears his throat. “I uh, I wrote my number on it.”

“De-rek,” she stretches his name out, “you romantic you! Why didn’t you tell me? Actually, whatever, never mind. Back to the issue. So you’re worried because after Friday and today he called you a friend. That’s the crux of it?”

“Yes.” Derek sighs again.

Erica hums through the phone before answering. “You sound really down about this. Do you already care that much about him?”

Derek doesn’t need to think it over before answering. “Yes. I do.”

“Wow.” Erica speaks softly and Derek thinks he can hear her sitting down. “Wow.”

The two sit on the phone in silence. Derek has no clue what Erica is thinking about (she’s thinking about how she felt when she first met Boyd) but he’s replaying over and over the image of Stiles sitting here on the couch and rubbing his hands raw talking about his mother.

Across the line he hears a door opening and closing.

“Oh, Boyd’s home. I’m going to ask him about the date/not-date and see what he says.”

Derek sighs and listens to Erica’s truncated explanation of his story to Boyd after which she puts him on speakerphone so the three of them can talk better.

“So,” Boyd begins, “it sounds like what you need to do is just speak with Stiles.”

“About what?” Derek flops his head back against the couch.

“What you want your relationship to be. The next time you see him, just talk to him. Make your intentions clear.”

“You say that like it’s easy to do.” Derek rubs his hand across his jaw again.

“It is Derek.”

He sighs for probably the twentieth time that night.

“You know he’s right.” Derek huffs out a laugh at that. “I’m not just saying that because he’s my husband.”

“No, no, you’re right. Both of you.” Derek sits up properly again and looks around the store. “I’m just... nervous.”

“We’ve all been there.”

“I highly doubt you have Erica. You’re the confidence queen.”

“Ha, thank you Derek. But you should’ve seen me before I asked Boyd out.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.” Derek replies. He takes a deep breath as he thinks about Boyd and Erica’s advice. “Ok. I’m going to talk to Stiles about it.”

“Good on you Derek.” Boyd says at the same time Erica asks, “Promise?”

“Yes I promise. And you can hold me to that if you must.” Derek hears the clinking resume and takes that as his sign to end the call.

**

When Derek confesses he still has doubts to Erica the next day – well not confess as much as she senses that he’s _broodier than normal by a solid 482%_ – she immediately wallops him on the back of his head with the magazine she was reading.

“Ok, we did the caring gentle bit last night. Here comes the cold truth.” She takes a deep breath and turns to face him. “You wrote your number on a coffee cup, idiot.” She emphasises the jibe with another hit from her magazine. “That doesn’t say ‘I want to be friends with you’ it says ‘you’re super fucking attractive and I wanna go out with you and maybe shove my tongue down your throat and my hand down your pants’.” Derek chokes on his water at that comment and glares at Erica.

“I sincerely hope it doesn’t say that.”

“I was just exaggerating for you Derek. But you get my point. Buying coffee for someone is not a platonic gesture.” Derek stares morosely at the sandwich in his hands, not convinced by Erica’s crass analogy. “Seriously Derek, you’re stressing yourself out. There’s nothing to worry about. I actually found out a little about Stiles from Isaac this morning for you and he’s _definitely_ single and _definitely_ interested in men and has _definitely_ brought you up on more than one occasion.”

“Really?” Derek mentally berates himself for sounding so hopeful in front of Erica who, although being happily married to the love of her life, isn’t what anyone would refer to as a romantic. But in one of those moments that reveal just why Derek and her have stayed friends for so long, she doesn’t even blink an eye at him.

“Yes, Derek. Really.” She says with absolute earnestness.

Later that afternoon Derek gets a text from Stiles asking him for his email so he can send through a bunch more questions about the local authors they’re showcasing at the festival. Derek’s day brightens considerably at that. Stiles is actively showing an interest in his work, way above and beyond what any of his friends have ever done (and even co-owner Laura), and Derek – he’s not over thinking it, honestly – chalks it up to Stiles being romantically interested in him.

He doesn’t ask about the date/not-date thing when he responds to Stiles but he hasn’t forgotten his promise to Boyd and Erica. He wants to have the conversation in person and decided last night while in bed that he’d give himself the deadline of the Beacon Hills Historic Town Festival. He knows Stiles will be there and he figures he’ll find him during the day and talk. And then if things go well, they can hopefully enjoy the Festival together. And if things don’t, Derek can busy himself with Laura and their book stand.

Also, Derek wants more time to work out exactly how he’s going to word his question to Stiles.

* *

When Derek rolls out of bed next weekend on Festival day the sun is creeping into his room through cracks in his curtains. He takes a deep breath and smiles, letting himself feel positive about the day ahead.

The Festival is an all day thing so Derek and Laura have to start setting up at 8am for the official start at 10. Although most of the stalls are on the grassy area, Allison managed to get them a spot in the paved courtyard, closer to their shop and easier for Derek to lug the boxes of books out to. They set up 3 long tables in a half square with boxes of books along the side tables containing a mix of Beacon Hills history books and general literature separated into categories. The books by local authors are on display across the front two tables.

Laura starts pulling out information cards for all the local works. They’re beautifully rendered with the authors name and picture on the top followed by a short bio on the author’s relation to Beacon Hills and their literary achievements.

“Where did you get those?” Derek’s never seen them before and he couldn’t remember Laura saying anything about making them.

“Stiles made them for us. I thought you’d asked him.”

“Oh.” Suddenly Stiles’ emails throughout the week make a lot more sense. “Did we pay for them?”

“Nope. Pro bono work I guess.” She shrugs and lines the plaques in a neat line along the front table. Derek walks around the front to read through them properly. He can see a dozen titbits of information corresponding to questions Stiles had asked him at the book fair last weekend and in his numerous emails since. There is even a sentence or two word for word from Derek’s responses which Derek takes as a compliment.

He looks around the courtyard and across the grass to see if Stiles is there yet. Although there are lots of people around Stiles isn’t one of them.

Laura and Derek had decided last week they were going to keep the actual shop open as well as running the stall, a new move for them. They asked Cora and she agreed to come up for the weekend to help them out. The antique shop isn’t staying open for the festival and Laura somehow managed to convince Danny to help out in-store as well. Derek doesn’t imagine he needed much convincing though because he’s just a nice person, but his boyfriend Ethan did according to Laura, and he’s there helping too.

The restaurants aren’t given stalls but all three are open and have set up extra tables and chairs along the pedestrian street. The cafe and deli are the opposite, storefronts closed but operating from vending stalls on opposite sides of the grass. Derek spots Erica setting up a vending stall on the far side of the grass and jogs over to help her set up. It takes them about 40 minutes to hook up two coffee machines to battery packs sitting in the boot of a van and transfer a dozen cases of baked goods onto the lawn.

The art gallery is shut but as they do every year they’ve got 5 large tables set up at the back of the grass, farthest away from the outdoor stage, all covered with different kinds of kids craft activities. Derek can see the red-head he thought was dating Stiles delegating tasks to her actual boyfriend, Allison from the Visitor’s Centre, and an eager looking guy with his arms wrapped around Allison who he assumes is Scott, Stiles’ friend. There are also another two tables for more serious arts. Erica drags Derek over to help the group finish setting up.

When they get there Erica immediately goes over to chat with the red-head and Derek raises an eyebrow as the two hug tightly, unaware that they were friends. Thinking it over as he surveys the watercolour and charcoal tables, Derek realises that Erica probably knows everyone who works in this part of town. She’s been here longer than him and never asks Derek ‘who’ when he offhandedly mentions people.

“Yo, Derek!” He looks up and sees Erica waving him over to her. He furrows his brow but goes anyway. “I think it’s time you meet some more Village People.” It’s her nickname for the people who work in The Historical Village. It seems that her friends are all familiar with the term because instead of the puzzled looks and then laughter the moniker normally receives from first-time hearers, all four of them merely roll their eyes in impressive synchronicity. “Allison you know, she helps at the info centre with her dad. This is Scott McCall, the fiancée.” So Derek was right, floppy haired man was Scott. He nods and smiles at them both. “And Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore. Jackson’s an honorary Village Person but Lydia runs the arts and crafts program. Also,” Erica says, swivelling to face Derek with an innocent expression on her face which screams of mischief, “you probably owe her your thanks. She started the busking program.” And then Erica winks at him. In front of four people he’s just met.

Derek feels his face flushing but nods at Jackson and Lydia anyway. Jackson looks disinterested enough that Derek doesn’t think he’s noticed the blush, but Lydia has a knowing smile on her face and Derek finds himself averting his eyes.

“Are you staying for the whole concert tonight Derek?”

“Uh, yes.” He looks back at the red-head, Lydia. “I think Laura was planning on a picnic after we close down the stand.”

Lydia grins and nods at him as if he’s just done her a favour. “Good. Stiles is our closing act.” Then she grabs Jackson’s hand and walks them off to the other side of the oval where the stage is before Derek can comment.

Erica laughs. “I love her so much,” she says with obvious awe. “Well, we’re back to the books now.”

“Nice meeting you.” Derek manages to say to Allison and Scott before Erica is pushing him back to where Laura is checking over their stand.

-

Derek needs a break. He’s been on his feet for too long and somehow managed to skip right past lunch. Also his arms hurt from carrying books from the store out to the courtyard when their stock drops which he’s had to do about 6 times already.

“Hey Laura, I’m going for a break. Be back in 10.”

“Sure thing.” She’s busy reorganising the local book display which keeps getting messed up, the information cards not matching up with the books because people pick them up to read and put them back in the wrong place.

“Oh, hang on.” She straightens up and faces him properly. “Derek. Take more than 10 minutes, ok? Have a whole hour. You’re exhausted and reverting to grump status. It’s bad for the customers.” He rolls his eyes at her before weaving across the grass between the groups of people on picnic rugs and heading toward Erica and coffee.

The cafe’s stand is overwhelming busy, even past the lunch hour, and Erica and two other workers are constantly on the go. Derek isn’t served by Erica but offers her a smile when he catches her eye. She rolls her eyes and gives him a ' _what can you do_ ' shrug.

Derek takes his coffee and muffin and sits toward the back of the oval, looking around at everyone enjoying the Festival. He takes his time but he still can’t see Stiles anywhere. If he didn’t know that Stiles was the closing act of the night he’d probably be worrying himself sick over whether or not Stiles was turning up at all.

Derek’s already slightly nervous as it is because now that he’s stepped away from the book stand he has time to think about his promise to Erica and Boyd and the conversation he has to have with Stiles. He does want to have it, really. Or actually, no, not really, but he _does_ want to know whether Stiles sees him as more than a friend. But it would be great if he could just skip the potentially awkward “I _like_ like you and do you _like_ like me” part.

He watches a rather horrible young dance group perform and listens to a brother and sister duo doing acoustic covers while he finishes his coffee and muffin. He’s sees that Erica is finally free of customers at the cart and so goes over to her, ordering a takeaway coffee for Laura while he’s there.

“How’s it going?”

“My feet are _killing_ me Derek!” Erica collapses onto the grass beside the cart and flops onto her back. “Every year I sign up to do the Festival and every year I forget how crazy this thing gets.”

“I know what you mean. If I hadn’t gone to that second book fair with Stiles we probably would have run out of local stuff by now.”

Erica sits up at that. “How is Mr Unfortunate-Name? Have you talked to him yet? You did promise.”

Derek sits down next to her. “Firstly, please don’t call Stiles that. Secondly, I remember my promise, don’t worry. I’m going to do it today but I haven’t seen Stiles yet.” Derek looks around yet again for that distinct dishevelled head of brown hair. Still no luck.

“Don’t sweat it. He’s closing tonight so you know he’s going to show.”

“Yeah I know.” Derek picks at blades of grass. “I just wanted to talk to him before he plays is all.”

“I see. Hey, did you want to practise on me?”

“Practise what?”

“You know,” Erica shuffles closer to Derek and angles so she’s facing him, “pretend I’m Stiles and have the date/not-date conversation with me.”

“Funnily enough, I do not want to do that.”

“Probably a good call. I think I’m too tired to stop myself from laughing through that role-play.”

“Well gee, thanks Erica. Anyway, I should get this coffee to Laura before it’s completely cold. I’ll see you later.”

“Save me a good spot on the picnic rug.” Erica shouts after him. He puts his thumb up over his shoulder in acknowledgment.

He takes the long way around the outside of the oval past all the stores so he can check them out. At the art gallery’s tables Lydia and Scott are doing face painting. The kids that walk away from Lydia’s side are artistically rendered into a whole array of things – butterflies, tigers, Spider Man, covered in vines or rainbows or flowers. All of Scott’s kids seem to look like rudimentary cats with mismatched whiskers.

Derek laughs and Scott catches him at it. Thankfully Scott laughs along and mouths _'I know_ ' before going back to turning yet another young kid into a cat.

Derek stops by the edge of the courtyard to listen to the girl on stage cover _Paradise Circus,_ one of his favourite Massive Attack songs. A minute into the song someone comes up behind him and places a hand in between his shoulder blades. He turns his head and finds himself staring at Stiles.

“Hey Derek. How’s the stall going?” He’s smiling and looking a lot calmer than Saturday evening.

“Good. I think.” Derek smiles back easily. How ironic that the moment he stopped looking for Stiles he shows up. “We’ve sold a lot of stuff and people are really interested in the local author showcase. Thank you for doing the display cards by the way. They’re really impressive.” Derek thinks he’s spoken too much but he can’t help it. He’s distracted. Stiles’ hand is still on his back and so they’re standing rather close and he can smell Stiles and count all the moles on his perfect face and it’s a sensory overload. Also he’s thinking about the dawning date/not-date conversation.

“No problem. I enjoy doing them.” Stiles finally removes his hand to run it through his hair. “I was just wondering, I guess, um- how long are you going to be here?” Derek’s draws his eyebrows together. “Ah, let me rephrase – sorry. I was wondering whether you’re still going to be here at 6 o’clock? I’m performing and I’d really like it if you were there.” He bites his lip and Derek glances down at them before up at Stiles’ eyes.

“Yeah, Stiles. I definitely plan on watching you perform.” Which is the truth. He’d specifically asked Allison earlier that week whether Stiles was performing so he could make sure not to miss it.

“Oh! Great. Yeah, cool. Great.” He reaches out to grip Derek’s arm and smiles. “I’ll see you later then. Hopefully.” He trails his hand down Derek’s arm and runs his fingers over the back of his hand before walking away towards his friends who are sitting on a picnic rug near the front of the stage.

Derek’s hand is tingling and he stares at it half expecting to see burn marks from where Stiles had touched him. Too late he realises he was meant to tell Stiles how he felt about him. He groans. Why is always letting himself be distracted by Stiles?

He catches Erica’s eyes across the oval and she lifts her hands up at him in a questioning motion. He shakes his head and she dramatically throws her head back in anguish and then shakes her head at him in return.

If he hadn’t already used up the hour break Laura gave him he’d run after Stiles but even then, looking around he sees he’s hesitated too long and lost Stiles again to the thickening picnic crowd.

-

“Ok! Times up! We’re taking the stall down!” Laura announces with finality at precisely 5pm, the designated end time of the stall component of the Festival. A few of the other shops have started packing up and most of the Festival attendees are already settled on picnic rugs across the oval.

Laura and Derek had shut the actual shop up early afternoon so Cora, Danny and Ethan could enjoy the Festival a bit. Laura waves Cora over from where she’s sitting with high school friends to help them pack up the stand though, and with the three of them it takes a very short time. They don’t bother sorting books back into categories and Derek always goes over the sales the day after anyway, so after 15 minutes Cora goes back to her friends and Laura and Derek head over to where Boyd has set up two picnic rugs for their small group.

Erica joins them later with takeaway pizzas from the Italian restaurant and they eat through them while listening to the musicians on stage. At this end of the day all of them are good and Derek is enjoying relaxing after the long day.

Every new song brings him closer to Stiles' set and at ten minutes to six Derek is regretting his fifth slice of pizza as it churns sickeningly in his stomach.

Boyd notices and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Relax. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t get a chance to talk to him yet,” Erica must have told Boyd, “just enjoy his music.”

Derek breaths deeply and nods. Boyd is right. There’s nothing he can do about missing his chance to talk to Stiles today. He may as well let himself enjoy listening to Stiles’ performance.

When Stiles walks onto the stage a few minutes later there’s a massive cheering from a group on a picnic rug near the front of the oval. Derek can pick out Lydia’s red hair and Scott’s messy black hair from amongst the group. Stiles waves bashfully at them and then does a deep bow in their direction. He seems to know many of the locals, probably through his dad, and nods at half a dozen people as he looks around at the crowd. When his eyes land on Derek way at the back of the oval, Derek feels a shiver run up his spine. Stiles beams at him and if Derek were up close he’s certain his eyes would be sparkling with warmth.

“Hello Beacon Hills!” Stiles speaks into the microphone. There’s a yell of something indecipherable at Derek’s distance. “Yes, thank you Scott. Love you too bro.” Half the audience laughs at that. “Before I start I just want to thank Lydia Martin and the rest of the art gallery people for starting the busking program. I know all of the musicians who have played here today or in the courtyard these past few months think it’s a wonderful opportunity. And on behalf of the retired Mayor Whittemore and Chris and Allison Argent, I’ve been asked to thank all of you wonderful, wonderful Beacon Hills residents for coming out to the Historical Village for the Festival. Give yourselves a round of applause.” He waits while everyone claps and cheers for each other. “Ok, well, better start playing some music for you then.”

To Derek’s horror, Stiles starts his first song staring right at him and it’s immediately obvious why. It’s the Jason Mraz song that he and Derek had massacred the other day driving back from the book fair. Derek shakes his head at Stiles who just grins at him and sings even more gleefully. Thankfully he has since learnt the words to the song but Derek laughs anyway at the memory of some of their more distasteful made-up lyrics from the other weekend.

The whole performance is so perfect and so _Stiles_ that Derek, who never dances, ever (Erica can testify to that since he refused to dance with her even at her wedding) taps his foot and nods his head with the goofiest smile to ever grace his face. Stiles sees him doing it and raises his eyebrows and does this strange head nod thing at Derek while he’s singing and dancing with even more enthusiasm than before.

After he finishes there’s loud applause from everyone which Derek very joyously adds too.

“He’s really good Derek.” Laura shouts over the noise. Then she winks as says, “You picked a good one.”

Derek realises he hadn’t told Laura that Stiles was his crush but it’s nice to have her approval. He’s too happy to bother figuring out who filled her in but the safe bet is always Erica.

“Thanks.” He says instead and stops clapping, ready to listen to the rest of Stiles’ set.

It isn’t anything different to his usual style of music - no classical though - but it’s nice to see Stiles have the freedom to draw attention to himself. Normally, the busking in the courtyard is meant to be more background than a showcase but seeing Stiles performing on a stage is so much better. He moves more freely, hips and head moving along to his songs, entrancing Derek with the sensory combination of Stiles’ music and his body moving along to it.

He does a few songs in the middle that feature other musicians; a gorgeous duet of _Different Worlds_ with the keyboardist from earlier on, and Bob Marley’s _One Love_ with the brother and sister duo and a girl Derek recognises from the deli on a percussion box. He manages to get the entire audience singing the chorus with him on that one. To Derek’s surprise, Stiles even gets Danny onstage after to play trumpet for a close-to-the-original version of _Mad World_ by Tears for Fears, also with the girl from the deli and the keyboardist again.

Stiles fills the time between songs with witty anecdotes and stories from when he came to the Festival as a kid. The audience laps it all up, Derek included, smiling along as he learns stories from Stiles’ childhood.

“This next one is going to be my last song.” Stiles announces after almost an hour on stage. There’s booing from the crowd which Derek thinks is mainly the efforts of Stiles’ friends. “I know, I know. But it’s been wonderful having the opportunity to play at the festival and you guys have been a fantastic audience. Thank you once again.”

Stiles smiles and looks out across the crowd. Derek tries to catch his eye but Stiles doesn’t look as far back as where he is.

“This song,” he begins, fiddling with the pick in his hand. Derek can almost see Stiles’ blush from here. “I’d like to dedicate to a special someone in my life. Well... I hope they’ll be someone special.”

Derek feels his smile slip slightly. Oh god, after all this time, could he have been wrong about him and Stiles?

The opening chords of the song start and it takes Derek a while to pick it, longer than it probably would have if he hadn’t been panicking about Stiles possibly about to confess his feelings to someone else. He only recognises it because it’s one of his mothers’ favourite artists. Like everything else about Stiles, the choice is unexpected.

Like Stiles’ first song of the night, this one is inspired by his trip with Derek to the book fair. It’s the first song from Derek’s ‘ _the parents_ ’ mixtape. _Love Me Like a Man._

Derek doesn’t know how, but across the sea of picnic blankets he can tell that Stiles is nervous. The crowd is absolutely silent, everyone’s eyes fixed upon Stiles, whose attention is focussed solely on watching his fingers pluck at the guitar strings. Even when he begins to sing, his eyes remain downcast. Derek can feel his friends looking at him but doesn’t know what expressions their faces are conveying. Once again he’s too caught up in Stiles.

And then suddenly, Stiles lifts his head and is looking straight at Derek.

Derek sits stock still, watching as Stiles gradually loses his nervous energy and starts to get into the music, moving his body along to the beat and plucking out an instrumental interlude with fervour. Derek can’t help it, he smiles at Stiles. Big and bold and bursting with relief. Because it is definitely him Stiles is singing to, Derek would be certain even without the nudges from both Laura and Erica.

Stiles laughs onstage as Derek starts nodding his head to the music and it rings out clearly through the speakers.

“It’s all so romantic.” Erica sighs and leans back against Boyd.

Derek agrees with her. It’s a brash, over-the-top move, like something out of a romantic comedy. But it is 100% Stiles and Derek can’t fault him for that. _Besides_ , he reminds himself, _I did start the whole thing with a coffee cup_.

The song ends and Derek is frozen again. What does he do now? Most of the families are packing up and beginning to leave, parents carrying sleepy young children back to cars, but through the sea of bodies Derek’s eyes are locked on Stiles. He is still standing on stage, just smiling at Derek.

Derek can feel hands pushing him but can’t tell whether they’re Laura’s or Erica’s or even Boyd’s. He thinks they’ve got the right idea though. As he makes his way through the leaving families, Derek finds himself relieved that he didn’t bring up the date/not-date conversation with Stiles. He would have ruined this gesture that Stiles had planned. It’s funny how these things work out.

When Derek is a few metres away from the stage, past where Stiles’ friends are all still sitting on their rug, Stiles lays his guitar down in its case and jumps off to meet Derek.

“Was is too much? I wasn’t sure whether you were a dramatic, romantic gesture type but then I remembered that you were the one who wrote your number on a coffee cup so I kinda figure- Woh. Ok.” Derek had reached out both hands, grasping Stiles hips and pulling him close. Not so close that their bodies made contact, Derek didn’t need the extra stimulation, but seeing Stiles up close after watching him sing that song for Derek, he couldn’t resist holding him in some way.

Stiles' eyes are sparkling just like Derek had imagined they would be and his smile has softened into something more private than the grin he’d been offering the audience during the concert.

“It wasn’t too much.” Derek speaks softly to Stiles, aware that his friends are very close to where they are standing. His spreads his fingers out along Stiles’ side and Stiles shudders in a breath.

“Good.” He says, just as softly. “So Derek. I like you very much and I was wondering,” Stiles leans towards him. “Would you be my boyfriend?”

“Well,” Derek mirrors Stiles movement. “I didn’t run away after you serenaded me did I?”

“So is that your yes you’ll be my boyfriend?” Stiles leans in even further, leaving merely an inch between their lips.

“Yes and no.” Stiles doesn’t draw back but he does raise his eyebrows slightly. “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend. No that wasn’t my yes-I’ll-be-your-boyfriend. This is.” And Derek leans in and kisses Stiles like he’s wanted to since he first saw him in the courtyard.

He tries to keep it chaste, not wanting to let on how crazy and out-of-control Stiles makes him feel. He’s also very conscious of Stiles' friends still sitting on their picnic rug very close to the stage. He hears a wolf-whistle from one of them but can’t tell who it is.

Derek should have known that Stiles’ enthusiasm for life and music would come across in his kissing. Stiles hands immediately come up to cup the back of Derek’s head, fingers threading through his hair. He arches his body up into Derek’s so their fronts finally come into contact. They fit flush together and Derek sighs just a little bit, finally feeling Stiles’ warmth up close and in reality. None of his dreams have even come close.

Derek feels Stiles start smiling against his lips and he follows suit. Their kissing gets less effective then and so they both pull back. Derek keeps his hands on Stiles’ hips and Stiles keeps his looped around the back of Derek’s neck.

“Why Bonnie Raitt?” Derek asks about the song choice.

“No particular reason. I noticed it on your mixtape and I couldn’t un-notice it. And then I was listening to it at home and I just got this idea in my head to, well essentially to serenade you, and I just went with my gut.” Stiles looks like he’s starting to worry himself over his decision so Derek leans in to kiss him again.

When he pulls away Stiles is back to smiling happily and Derek counts that as a win.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear you, thank you sincerely for reading this. I’ve spent over a year on it and I’m just very excited (and a bit proud) to finally have published it. And so thank you for choosing to read it.
> 
> I first started this story over a year ago (I’m such a slow writer!) and before any of my other works here were published. I thought it would be a short one. The idea was simple; Stiles busks, Derek works nearby, they crush on each other, they meet and start dating, end of story. I don’t remember exactly, but I attribute _The Busker_ as being inspired by the song [**Love Me Like A Man**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42W2g0OYbdc). Originally it was going to be practically one scene – Stiles serenading Derek with that song. Then I started writing the fic and dreaming up all these other external situations that could happen. The coffee cup thing, Erica and Derek’s banter, side-stories for Laura and others, plus back-stories for the peripheral characters (like Lydia running the art gallery and this whole other thing I didn’t include with Allison and her family as the Preserve Rangers). So _The Busker_ just grew and grew and suddenly (or not suddenly because it took me a year) I’m 20’000+ words in and not finished. But here it is finally. 
> 
> Once again thank you.


End file.
